Somewhere Like Here
by adharmic
Summary: "I thought living in an idyllic small town was supposed to uncomplicate things...but now I'm raising a teenager and being driven insane by the interference of my friends, family, and a guy I can't stand. It's okay, I've always got the threat of my inn just being steps away from financial collapse." All our favorites in a fic that's inspired by the Gilmore Girls universe. E/B.
1. Growing Pains

Disclaimer: Own nothing of Twilight, written by Stephenie Meyer, and nothing of the television series, Gilmore Girls, which was created by Amy-Sherman Palladino and aired on the WB/CW network. I'm trying to get rid of a bunch of fanfic I wrote a few years ago that never made it off my hard drive. In the interest of finishing things that I started eons ago, I'm going to post and finish this story (it's a Gilmore Girls based Twi-fic) as well as try (try being the operative word here) to finish up the rest of my existing fic. I have no expectations; this is just in the interest of closure. Enjoy!

BEEP!

BEEP!

He..he..he..he.

_Panting? _

I cracked an eye open, squinting at the mournful face of my lazy, overfed pug. The alarm continued to blare, unabated.

I pushed against the massive ball of folds and fur that had taken to sleeping in my bed.

"Grendel, off the bed, now." My grunt of a voice petered out as I willed him to go slobber at the bottom of the stairs…or be useful and paw the snooze button.

In response, he lolled his tongue out and continued to pant.

A different, human voice sounded.

"Sprinklers…early…won't notice a thing…"

_Scraping, banging? Christ, who is actually up at this ungodly hour?_

"No Emmet, that's not in the right spot…it's cutting on to Bella's lawn no…See, you have to tilt it to the right…wait…See now it's tilted too far…Give it to me….

_Crack. Splash…Pffttttt!_

Jets of water noisily sprayed upwards, hitting the glass of the west window, adding to the cacophony of sound that was my wake-up call this beautiful Monday morning.

_Monday…so familiar...something important?_

I snuggled deeper into the Egyptian cotton sheets, tugging on the white down comforter, praying for an end to the noise that would not require any mobile effort on my part.

_Oooooohohoh….600 thread count sheets…good investment…don't think I'll move anytime soon._

The foreboding sense of urgency that was gnawing at the corners of my mind would have to wait until I was done drowning in comfort.

_Mmm…so nice .I would take this over a man any day. Ha, what are you even saying? As if a lack of men in the bed is a new development…Even before this past year…Renee…Helping bring up Ren…Ren…REN!_

My thoughts scattered frantically as I recalled exactly what made me so resistant to this particular morning.

_First day…Ren…Platt Academy…oh no…Crap, crap, crap!_

I turned over and the sun landed squarely in my eyes, as if to punish me for entertaining the idea of staying in bed when there was a horrible morning to be had. As my mind fought to complete a full thought in my sleep-addled brain, I leapt up from the bed in one fluid motion…if one fluid motion comprised of wrapping my ankle around the curved legs of the night table, knocking my head against the scrolled spiral work of the antique oak headboard, and for the finale, twisting my arms together over my head to hold my balance as my jerking unstuck me from the confines of the table.

_Wow, this is light-years beyond what I was capable of doing in that free yoga class Alice dragged me to last week. If only it could be summoned on a voluntary basis._

The basking in my minor accomplishment faded as loud clatters emerged from the top of the house, and the annoyed-turned-angry buzzing of voices escalated from outside. Which led to my reconsidering of the drenched window.

_What the hell is going on out there?_

Before my bewilderment at this unforgiving morning could increase tenfold, a charmingly sarcastic voice sounded from the bedroom doorway.

"Wow Bella, you look like a prima ballerina in dire need of Ritalin…it suits you." Leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, smugness radiated from the features of my beautiful, annoying Ren. Dressed in a plaid blue wool skirt, knee high socks, and matching jacket she could be construed as the epitome of school girl innocence

_Or the drone-like, poster child of a life-sucking, money-draining beacon of arrogance and snobbery,_ I inwardly sneered.

I automatically sighed, untwining my pretzeled limbs, noting that my disdain for anything associated with prep schools had not lessened in fifteen years.

Ren straightened at the apparent lack of humor in my gaze and gave me a knowing look, tinged with anxiety. She knew of my discomfort of the situation; and she unsurprisingly went through with the arrangements to transfer to the new school. Apparently, my ranting had done no good in educating her of the evils of rich class prejudices and how legacy was a poor substitute for originality of the individual. The day after she refused to budge, I drove her to Hartford to get measured for uniforms: And to plead with Carlisle and Esme to call off their interference in what were supposed to be my parenting duties. Nonetheless, they were ecstatic over their hold on me via Ren's decision and my words fell on deaf ears.

_Ah yes, these are my responsibilities as a twenty nine year old surrogate mother for my adolescent sister._

My familial title had become tangled in the drama that had unfolded in the last year.

I pushed away the painfully resentful reminders and focused at the task at hand. It was now…I craned my head towards the still bleating clock and glanced at the screaming red numbers…7:45!

_Oh no, no, no, no_!

I choked. I had fifteen minutes to make myself presentable for the chancellor, dean, whatever of Platt and once again beg Ren to reconsider the offer that had dragged me in with its ulterior motives.

Glancing at my body scantily clad in a tank top and cotton boyshorts, I realized I could maybe try my hand at persuasion in the car on the way to Platt, and sprang into action.

"Ren. Breakfast. Now. Then car…and why the hell didn't you wake me up?"

"I thought I could soften you up by letting you sleep another hour, so I changed the alarm after you went to bed."

As I sped towards the hallway bathroom to start the shower, I let out a growl in her direction, making her fully aware that her actions had in fact exacerbated my current mood.

"Besides when do you ever need to be woken up? It's not my fault you chose last night to be insomnia free…" Her words drowned out with the sounds of the water hitting tile and I rammed my toothbrush into my mouth while simultaneously scrubbing down my torso.

_The miracles of multitasking. _

As I once again sped through the hallway, the towel half flying behind me, Ren threw me a Nutri-Grain bar that I caught with uncharacteristic ease.

Tearing off a bite, I pondered my outfit as a disconcerting reminder of, "Ten Minutes!" flew in followed by the sound steps retreating down the stairs.

"Yeah, ye.." I suddenly remembered the fact that would be my downfall this morning. Oh shit, all my upstanding, fiercely independent, "I am woman, hear me roar" outfits were at the cleaners. I had delivered them on Friday in an attempt to be fully prepared for what I would face this week. Every single respectable piece of clothing I owned was now hanging impatiently at Lin's Dry Cleaning.

_Shit, shit, shit…Okay first things you see…underwear, jeans, shirt…go!_

I threw on whatever had been surrendered to the floor of my room, vaguely registering the ongoing commotion outside, and managed to pull on a pair of New Balances while frantically hopping towards the stairs.

Ren's auburn curls flew as I captured her in a whirlwind out the door, narrowly missing a nasty spill over Grendel who had taken it upon himself to provide his body as an extra stair.

My arm still clutching her waist, I slammed the wooden door, leaving it shaking on its hinges as my red truck loomed into view.

Rosalie and Emmet were still arguing. Seemingly over a dented steel pipe half submerged in the ground at the border of the two lawns, demarcated by a towering maple tree.

Both their heads snapped in the direction of my self-powered tornado and they began to spew out apologies, garbling each other's words in their haste.

"Bella, so sorry…"

"Damn pipe, hole wasn't deep enough. I'll be sure to get it off the roof…"

_Wait, the roof? Huh? _

"No time, gotta run…" I interrupted, allowing Ren to make her own way into the passenger's seat and then threw the gearshift into drive.

The roar of the truck sounded over their mouthed apologies. It groaned again in protest as I mashed my foot into the accelerator, urging it to go beyond its breaking point of 50 miles/hour, and we jerked in reverse towards the end of the drive.

"Geez Bella, calm down, it won't be terrible, just a small meeting with the dean…."

"When has anything positive sprung from the statement 'small meeting with the dean'? Honestly." I was flustered, panicky, and was placing barely the minimal amount of caution in dodging my fellow motor bound citizens.

I hurriedly curved the truck around the small-town streets, avoiding the all too common glares that my bulky vehicle often received for clogging the road. I finally took a breath as we reached the highway.

Ren, silent until she was sure we and the townsfolk of North Meadow would escape unscathed, narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"What is your deal? It's the first day of school, not the opening scene of a Roland Emmerich movie." she accused.

I set my mouth in a firm line as I bit back a bitter response that would reveal the truth of how I actually felt. Honestly, I had worked very hard to gain the reputation and career I held today, refusing the insincere handouts and promises of a fake legacy I felt institutions like Platt had to offer. I did not mix with my Aunt Esme's social circle, despite her numerous attempts to coax me into her "cotillion ball, charity gala, golf on Sunday" world. In spite of all of this, I obviously had my insecurities in facing this elite group, feeling as if they were ready to pounce at my first misstep. Only I was determined to never give them the satisfaction. This meant showing up on time, as opposed to rebelling against the standards they set, and presenting myself as the serious adult I saw myself to be. I would never give a hint of a doubt that I was capable of standing on my own, independent and successful while easily providing for the sister I had helped raise

_I stepped up and they would not see me fail._

_Even if it means feeding directly into their hands, like a hog with a trough. _

The imagery of me bent at the waist, slobbering and grunting into a wooden trough labeled "Flaming Sell-Out Opportunist" was disconcerting at the least.

I finally answered, giving an edited response. "This is by no means a small meeting. This is a test. You do realize that every single word that leaves our mouths will get back to Esme…they work quickly."

"And…" Ren questioned expectantly with a roll of her hand.

Goddamnit, she just couldn't grasp it.

_Yes, they would love to pull her in at the first tell-tale sign of a screw-up_.

I sighed as I realized that Ren going to Platt, and all the implications that came along with it, was the first pull in a perpetual tug of war. The next fifteen minutes filled with silence as we each stewed over each other's words.

"Bella, we're coming up on the exit…"

I pulled myself back, relieved that Ren hadn't questioned me further. She had obviously thought what I said to be an exaggeration; she did not, could not, fathom the inner workings of this world. Pulling onto the exit, I swiftly turned onto the school road. After a few moments, Platt Academy made itself known through the looming ivy-covered, stone buildings and signpost: Austere enough to demand respect and exude prestige. The sun highlighted the intricate masonry of the buildings, showcasing a quaint courtyard that was unassumingly placed as the central feature between the three main buildings. Wide expanses of manicured green lawns abruptly ended in the flagstones of the outdoor reception area. Stone benches, rosebushes, and rustling green leaves in trees gnarled with age completed the scene: Welcoming enough to not initially intimidate, and lull you into acceptance.

_That's how they lure you in._

As I parked, Ren fingered the black straps of her backpack. I undid the clasp on my belt, not sure when I had actually buckled it, and gave another sideways glance. Fear for Ren flooded through me as I realized the suspicion on her face had been replaced with nervous anticipation.

She was scared. _Hell, she should be scared. I'm freaking terrified. _

Almost relieved, I gently took her hand, "We really don't have to go in. This is completely your decision. We will do what you want, no one, not even Esme, can force this upon you…I..."

Her grasp tightened as she let out a silvery laugh.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine." _Little liar._ "_You _on the other hand…could probably benefit from looking into a mirror." She gestured her hand up and down my body, chuckling as she flounced out of the truck, already heading towards the front office.

Confused, I ran my eyes over the torn dark wash jeans fraying at the hems and the red, plaid, flannel shirt that had been haphazardly buttoned, revealing a sliver of skin where the unmatched button holes hiked the shirt up. I'm positive that my hair resembled a makeshift Amy Winehouse beehive and with no makeup…well…I'm sure the incandescent white of my face gave off a blinding light.

_Eh, is that it? I've done worse._

Not necessarily comforted by this fact, I slammed the door behind me and walked through the stone arches of the central building to catch up with Ren.

"Did you remember your lunch?" _Did I even pack her one? I'm such fail. _

"I raided your wallet for lunch money. I'm good." She replied breezily, patting her bag.

_Ha. That translates to 'you're down about forty bucks and I'm coming home with the spanking new Decembrists CD.'_

I made a mental note to stop by an ATM later in the day.

Once again we stood motionless before a massive entrance, a lacquered plaque signifying that it was in fact the Dean's office. The large oaken doors brandished an uncommonly large bronze, door knocker.

My hand hesitated above the eyesore, unsure of what was the actual protocol of entering a dean's office.

"Do I knock or…maybe we should have waited out front…let's go…"

As I turned, the doors creaked open and a distinct "Ms. Swan" rang out.

_Crap, too late._

I whipped around, preparing myself for Dean Etrusca: Dean and scholar of all things pretentious, the least of those being Platt Academy.

"Ah Ms. Swan, and the elder Ms. Swan, we have been expecting you. I was afraid we maybe had a miscommunication over the start of the school day. As you can see, we are behind in our orientation, and we would not want Ren to be late for her first day of classes." He was the perfect balance of smug and condescending, with a dash of contempt.

_Give me a break, ten minutes late._

I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I stepped into the stifling office, realizing the silent reprimand in his words.

What I had expected exactly. A dark, plush rug lay over the glassy hardwood. Conservative antiques and oil paintings were spread throughout the room. Most of them bore the portraits of the Dean's esteemed predecessors, former deans and chancellors. I grimaced as my eyes settled on the portrait of the wizened, brush-stroked face of Charles Platt III.

_Hi Grandpa._

The present, human Dean markedly took in my appearance and tangled, wet mess of hair and managed a look of annoyed resignation as we seated ourselves in the hard backed chairs. He then continued with a speech explaining and outlining the expectations and decorum that were assumed of students when representing an institution of this magnitude. Halfway through his snore worthy spiel, I looked over to Ren, noting the earnestness in her eyes and nodding of her head.

_She is honest, naïve, and I'm throwing her to the frigging wolves. She's actually going through with giving this place a fair chance. Well, it's not too late for me, I wonder if there's an escape hatch._

My face fell again at my sister's unwillingness to judge as I surveyed the room for any possibilities.

"Is that amenable to you Ms. Swan?"

_Hmm, what? _My head snapped to attention, meeting with a third disapproving glance from the Dean

He continued. "As I am confident, based on her prior transcripts, that your younger sister will be sure to thrive in the academically challenging atmosphere Platt provides, we would like nothing more than for both of you to be further involved in school programs and activities. To place your mark in the Platt legacy…"

I immediately, and possibly rudely, interrupted. "I work full time and have several other responsibilities in addition to caring for Ren." Pause. _Well, you've gone this far, you might as well continue._ "Her welfare, and in turn her needs academically are the number one priority. But I do not see myself joining…uhh, the Booster Club?" I was going for firm and unshakeable, and instead ended up in the land of interrogative inflection under his impassive stare.

_I said Brrrr. It's cold in here… _

"Ms. Swan," he forced out. "We require that all of our parents meet a certain quota regarding involvement in school activities, ensuring that the students and their families form networks, gain a sense of community within our walls. I am aware of your…unique…situation…your family here in Hartford has been the heart and soul of Platt and both Carlisle and Esme have been our top beneficiaries for quite a number of years. You may not be a parent, but as a guardian, if I am correct, you are a voice of authority in Renesmee's life. This would entail certain sacrifices on your part in order to meet the requirements of the school. If you have issue with this, I'm not sure what can be done, maybe we should schedule a conference with your aunt and uncle…

_Oh, hell no. He did not just use my family dysfunction as leverage…smug bastard!_

"Dean Etrusca," I said again, glancing down at his nameplate for distraction. DEAN CAIUS ETRUSCA, the letters stood proudly. "Oh…Caius…really?"

_WTF is that name? He sounds like he belongs in a Roman crypt. _

"I actually prefer to be addressed as Dean Etrusca," he coldly remarked.

"Oh, of course," I quickly stated, eager to leave this meeting behind as a bad memory. "If you send me some sort of calendar guide of events, I can work out what I should be participating in…"

"It was included in the acceptance packet that was delivered to your home by post. It is an integral part of the standard preparatory materials." _Ohhhh you mean the packet that Ren gave me to look over and is currently lying crumpled and water-stained by the kitchen sink. That one._ His voice of authority hardened and I may have crossed my eyes attempting to hold level with his stare. I had been found out. _That's right 'Caius', if that is your real name. I'm no happier to be here than you. _

"I'll look right into that…er…ASAP." _When I put it on the radiator to dry off a little bit. _

Realizing my stammering had probably added to my painfully obvious lack of sophistication, I stood up, the Dean mimicked my actions, and Ren followed. All of us were left standing, slightly unsure of how to break the tension that accompanied my sudden movement.

Ren, the least affected of us all, finally ended the awkward silence. "Dean Etrsuca, I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to attend Platt. Both of us are. Please let me know, if there is anything I can do to catch up on what I missed in the last two years. I respect what the school asks of me academically and I would not want to fall short."

The Dean's face softened slightly, taking in Ren's inflated yet sincere words. _Smooth, you shameless brown-noser. _

I wasn't about to complain at her attempt to get the heat off my back

"Ms. Swan, I know that to be highly unlikely from what I see of your records. However, let's place a trial period of let's say…two months…and we can have another group conference to mark your progress at that time."

He then turned to me, all warmth fading. "Please extend my regards to Carlisle and Esme and tell them that I look forward to seeing them at the hospital charity dinner tomorrow night. I heard they made quite a sizable donation…"

_Ha, as if he or his wife won't be dialing up Esme before I even get a chance to reach work. _

"Well, yes, considering Carlisle is an attending surgeon…." I trailed off. Exchanging pleasantries with Dean Etrusca was a step above what I was willing to do to maintain a semblance of civility.

We finally bid each other farewell, and it was now time for me to leave and reclaim the shreds of dignity that I had inconveniently left at home. Ren abruptly turned to face me as she reached the outside of the wing that held her first class.

"What was _that_? I have never seen you that flustered…definitely never at that much of a loss for words. I was half expecting you to either sink into the floor or climb onto his desk yelling 'Viva la Résistance'."

_Ah, she also noticed me as an epic fail._

I reddened and tugged her shoulder, conveying my desperation. "Ren, I just lost my composure for a few minutes. If Esme asks, you deny everything. I need to initiate damage control. I'll go see Esme later today," I muttered to myself.

Ren just shrugged, adjusting the bag on her back. Nothing ever seemed to faze the girl. Her face was oddly at ease, but there was something not right. It was a façade, a good one, but her worry broke through in little spurts when the mask faltered.

"Ren, sweetie," I said, realizing she needed support and not an exit strategy. "You will be brilliant, you're unstoppable, you…"

"Bella, I don't need a comprehensive list of my redeeming qualities," she said as she took a shaky breath and bared her teeth in an obnoxious smile worthy of a Crest commercial. "Look at this shiny, happy face. I'm Shirley-freaking-Temple on the Good Ship Lollipop."

I laughed in resignation. _God, she's as good as deflecting as I am. I wonder if it's genetic. Of course, it is – Charlie. _

Wrapping her in an immense hug, I let all the love, worry, and pain I had held for her in the last year flow through like an emotionally charged river, hoping she would recognize that she was the most important to me.

"I love you, kid."

The sentiment was lost on her.

"My, you've gotten soft." She pushed back after a squeezing my woefully apparent love-handles and I scowled at her, still clasping her hands in my fists.

"I'll be here at 2:45 sharp to pick you up."

"Bella, no, the bus comes in to North Meadow…"

"2:45 sharp," I repeated with a note of finality.

"Fine." I let her go and she gave a small smile before walking into the building, head held high.

I took a deep breath. In addition to the anxiety that had been dredged up this morning, I now had an impromptu visit to pay Esme.

I noticed the staff slowly trickling in from the assigned parking area, gawking at my less than appropriate attire as they passed.

_But first some clean clothes…and coffee._

* * *

The friendly chime of a bell sounded as I pushed against the paint embossed glass of Em's Diner. The door swung open as I took in the glorious odor of beans grinding, wafting out from the back kitchen.

"Morning Bella. Coffee?"

Emmet towered behind the counter, his intimidating stance only lessened by his boyish face, dimples flanking his bright smile. His Chattanooga roots shone through with his deeply Southern accent. As a matter of fact, he happened to be laying it on very thickly at the moment. The charming scene was slightly more idyllic and heartwarming than I usually encountered on a daily basis. He was up to something.

But with coffee within actual reach, I chose to ignore his oddly cheery disposition.

I sighed gratefully and nodded, extending my arm to press the steel thermos onto Emmet, while seating myself on the red vinyl covered seat of a rotating barstool.

I had left the vestiges of my embarrassing morning back in Hartford and was now looking a little more presentable. My slacks and blouse were freshly pressed, the rest of my clean clothes unceremoniously dumped on the living room couch, and my hair somewhat coiffed so that it lay tamely against my shoulders.

When he finished filling my thermos to the brim, Emmet leaned back and gave me an appraising look. As I was already downing a good third of what he had given me, I eyed him curiously back over the rim of the lid.

"What?" I managed to ask between gulps.

"You're not pissed," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Uh, why would I be?" I was too intent on getting enough caffeine in my system to bother making any sense of his words.

Emmet then scratched the back of his head sheepishly, muttering something concerning sprinklers and roof tile. He seemed reluctant to divulge the full extent of the situation that I should have been upset over - and then I recalled the incident from this morning. Finally putting the pieces together, I realized some sort of damage had been inflicted on my house due to Emmet's mechanical genius.

"Emmet," I warily asked, "What exactly happened…and how much will I be paying for it."

"Uh…well, Rose and I were just installing the new sprinkler system, you know, I didn't want to have to pay someone else to do it. So I dug it and connected it myself. We, uh, didn't take into account water pressure or the slant of the pipe and it, uh, the water jets I mean, managed to hit your window. Sorry about waking you up like that, by the way."

"That's fine. But what about the roof?" I pushed impatiently.

"The, uh, pressure built under the pipe until the pipe literally exploded up out of the ground, and landed on your roof. It, well, it dislodged a few shingles."

I groaned. A few shingles would not normally be too big of a deal, but the outside of the house was already in slight disrepair and this added to my infinitely long to-do list. Add to that autumn leaves cluttering the gutters and a shudder that hinged loosely to the back window, and my house was a bona-fide fixer upper. I had no qualms in admitting that I was the least inclined to accomplish any task that required a ladder_ and_ a nail gun.

_Where's Bob Vila when you need him? _

"Alright Emmet," I started coolly," I forgive the fact that you are on some type of campaign to demolish my house piece by piece, but in turn you have to repair my shingles, unclog my gutters, and fix that loose shudder."

Emmet glared disapprovingly. "You know I was going to offer to be your shingle repairman, but the other two? Really milking it for all it's worth, huh, Bella? I for a fact know that you are entirely capable of all the handyman shit. Don't be a princess." _Oh princess, I am not._ "I saw you fix your indoor plumbing single-handedly last spring, you didn't even spray yourself."

I smirked. "That doesn't mean I enjoy it. Besides, I think outdoor repairs are beyond my scope of ability…that's what I keep you and Rose around for."

"Aw, you really are a sweet talker. Next time save me the trouble and get yourself a man."

"Hmm, are you implying you aren't a man Emmet? If that's the case, tell Rose to come on over and join the singles brigade." Ah, the verbal spars Emmet consistently got himself into. Rose would have definitely seen that coming.

Not to be outdone, he pushed on. "No, I'm implying that you have not had a solid relationship in the last five years." _Oh, low blow, Emmet. Right in the ovaries._ He hesitated a second before continuing, ensuring his own safety in uttering those words by backing away from the counter. I eyed him hostilely, daring him to go on. "No, no. The uber-scary 'I'm going to burn you to ash' look isn't going to work. Far be it for me to comment on your love life. Rose put me up to it." _Why am I not surprised?_ "I just think you may have forgotten the dynamics of one. You know, take me and Rose for instance. We both sure as hell know who wears the pants in our relationship."

It was true. Rose could shred a man's ego with a look. She was what I would like to call the original man-eater of the "Whoa, whoa, here she comes" variety.

I grimaced. I had no idea how the hell a ritual banter session had turned into a reflection onto my personal life, and I really didn't care for the direction this conversation was headed. This was one aspect of small town life I abhorred; everyone knowing the sordid details behind everyone's closed doors. In this place, Emmet, Rosalie, and Alice were close to me, so obviously they felt, even though I did not, obliged to have opinions and insights into my personal life. However, I don't know how others in the neighborhood thought it acceptable to pry into the personal affairs of single ladies. Just last week, Alice and I were ambushed by Ms. Cope and her veritable collection of 'man meat', photos of bachelors she had somehow scrounged up in the past year. I'm still unsure of how she went about collecting those, something along the vague lines of "the sons of friends of a friend". I was willing to believe she had actually acquired them by way of the black market. It was not that the photos were unappealing, but it was just the principle of the matter: These men were most likely unaware that their pictures were exhibits in Ms. Cope's matchmaking service, and I resented the idea that I needed to be pitied solely on the basis of being single. When she realized our lack of response and interest, she suggested that she even had a few prospects for Ren that would I would find acceptable. I staunchly refused and we high-tailed it to the next street. I drew the line at pimping out my baby sister.

"It's not about a power play on either side, Bella. You know it's not. We just want to see you happy." Emmet voiced softly again after a pause.

I straightened my back, taking in Emmet's sincere gaze for a minute. _I guess he's really serious._ I then took note of the lingering sympathy on his face, no doubt a little bit of it reserved for what I had gone through in the past year, and I immediately snapped out of it. _No, no more pity_. Pity was for the hopeless; I considered myself to be at least one step above that.

"Wow, Emmet, you're waxing poetic this morning. I don't mean to interrupt your sermon on love but my day job calls. And while my happiness to you apparently means jumping into bed with the next male stranger that comes my way, I'm going to have to pass on your advice. Tell Rose her interference is well meant but not necessary and I'm giving you both until the end of month to whip my house back into shape." I stood to leave, while fishing through my purse for some paper bills to hand Emmet. His idealistic, bordering on naïve, outlook on relationships was a part of Emmet's increasingly simple outlook on life, and was frankly very irritating. He should have recorded his philosophies as a DVD set and sent them out as self-help guides years ago for a hefty profit. The American public would have eaten that shit up.

Emmet just chuckled lightly, shrugging off the comment. Our friendship was secure enough that he knew that my sarcasm was meant as a sign of endearment, as opposed to a biting critique.

"Ah Bella, for the amount of crap you dish out to other people, you sure don't take a lot of it back. And how many times do I have to tell you that your coffee money is no good here." He waved off my cash laden palm with a sweep of his coffee pot wielding hand. The hot liquid sloshed over the rim and onto the Formica counter, narrowly missing the eggs of the breakfast patron two seats down from me. It earned Emmet a lukewarm glare from the guy, to which he responded with a look of amusement.

I rolled my eyes. Coffee cost a paltry sum that I was willing to part with. Emmet's grand gesture of refusing to take my money was cancelled out by the fact he charged me for meals. He might as well charge for the coffee.

"Whatever, Emmet. It's your livelihood."

He just shook his head. "I know you Bella, I've been providing your coffee-fix since you got here. For the amount you drink, I'm doing you a service."

_Well, that is true. _

Conceding with a nod, I asked for a refill.

I finally made my way out of the diner, letting out a laugh when the other surly customer started harping on Emmet over the consistency of the eggs.

As I walked towards work, the sights and sounds of small town New England gradually swept over me. This was what I loved, the leisurely morning walk, the sky a brilliant blue and sun lazily glinting. This washed off whatever ill omen the start of the day held and allowed me to wipe away my fear of things to come later; my state of mind was in the present, not the past or the future impinging upon it. Right now I would enjoy Newton haggling with his fish and meat providers outside his grocery, and the self-proclaimed town bard making his rounds with nothing but the clothes on his back and a battered guitar. Heck, even the pigeon defiling that ridiculously showy sports car parked across the street was brightening my mood. To think of it, the car seemed oddly out of place; striving to be noticed against a backdrop of mediocre vehicles. I glanced, still walking, at the rusted hull of a blue Toyota that contrasted sharply to the canary yellow of its superior neighbor.

_Yup, definitely out of place_.

Putting it out of my mind, I finally made my way up Harper Street and into "The Hollow." This place held the entirety of my savings. I had invested time, money, and a healthy dose of both blood and tears for this inn, restoring and revamping it while reassuring Alice that we would not lose the shirts off our back if we took it on as a project. The circumstances that led me here in the first place were nothing short of bizarre. I could still see myself as a bright eyed college graduate, wandering aimlessly amongst the landmarks of the quaint Connecticut town that I had been stranded in after taking a wrong turn on Route 56. This had been before my goodwill towards all was replaced with the embittered persona we've all come to know and not-so-much love.

My truck had still been as unreliable as ever, and coughed to a standstill at the junction of Route 56 and the boondocks, of course in the dead of night. Triple A, admitting themselves that it would be a good chunk of time before they would be able to send someone to tow the truck, took pity on me and contacted the owner of the auto garage the next town over. Lost and believing that I was to undoubtedly star in the opening sequence of my very own slasher flick, I locked myself in the cab of my truck until the headlights of the tow-mobile brightly steered themselves in my direction.

I was saved.

Springing out the door in joy, I came into contact with- not a tobacco chewing, grizzled, middle aged man with a beer gut – but a statuesque blond with blue eyes, who was sporting an oil stain on her otherwise flawless face.

Her name was Rosalie Hale McCarty and she was beautiful.

In short, she introduced me to her equally beautiful and rugged husband Emmet, and offered me her couch for the night. In the morning, I took it upon myself to explore the slice of Norman Rockwell heaven that I had stumbled upon. Originally burdened by the purpose of my visit to this region of the country, I found my mood lightening as I physically mapped my way through North Meadow, admiring the simple-heartedness that fueled such a place. When I had finally stumbled my way through to the outer town limits, I came across a dilapidated brownish gray ruin - complete with entangled weed growth and a caved in porch. Where others most probably looked and cringed or shielded their eyes, I uncovered opportunity.

Opportunity to throw away caution and begin my life anew.

I had no plan, no experience, no goals, no timetables, nobody, no money…but I wanted IT and everything IT had to offer. Hell if I knew what IT was, but I was eager to find out. I excitedly went through town record archives, the community zoning committee, and all the other bureaucracy just to learn that the owner had not yet kicked the bucket and had willed the building as a town landmark after their death.

Not to be deterred, I tried my hand at convincing the sweet old matron that it would be put to much better use if she would just sell the crumbling ruin to me, rather than allow it to rot into pile of compost. She was agreeable at first, serving me a cup of tea and a slice of peach cobbler, while asking how much I was willing to give for purchase.

Oops. I tried explaining my situation, drawing out a rough proposal that inevitably ended in an I.O.U. Bold, I know. But that's how fully committed I was to the IT.

I was summarily kicked out of her shop and labeled an "out-of-town" hussy, whose only goal was to exploit the elderly of the town.

Dejectedly, I made my way back to Rose and Emmet's, thanked them for their hospitality and picked up my useless shell of a vehicle. They asked me not to be a stranger, and the kinship I felt towards them made me feel as though I wouldn't be if I traveled there again. I made my way into Hartford for the funeral of my great aunt, acting as the obligatory family representative for Renee's wayward branch of the family tree. She had insisted that I go, as her aunt was the only relative that had not cringed in disdain when she married Charlie, but she did not want to face the myriad of others who had. Of course, I was eyed like a circus freak for being the rebel progeny. I was not on speaking terms with my grandparents, though they sidled curious looks every so often. Esme was the only lifeline I had through all the tedious family drama for my entire life, and she had already shown how she could manipulate my trust.

_Freaking A. Somehow Esme manages to squirm her way into my waking thoughts even when she's not here. _

After my less than exemplary stay, I surrendered to the idea that what I wanted out of life was not something so easily attained, not to mention the incredulous looks and questions I would get if I had actually followed through with the IT plan. I moved back to the West Coast, after graduating from Swarthmore, to be closer to my family, especially little Ren. Renee was still alive and in Phoenix, and I hadn't really bonded with Charlie since our summer excursions throughout my childhood and teen years.

Renee and Charlie had separated when I was six; Renee had cited Charlie's inability to communicate as a serious issue. It was true; he wasn't much of a talker unless it came to reeling in a fishing line or cursing out the Seahawks starting lineup. Though he loved her more deeply than she could outwardly comprehend, he mostly tried to stay out of the way in order to not be consumed by the rollicking ball of energy that was Renee. In the following six years she spent her time raising me, and I spent a few weeks each summer with my father. Not the most exciting of adventures, but our dynamic was easy and comfortable.

It was different in my case: Charlie and I were more alike than I'd like to admit and we had a mutual understanding. It was that I was now in charge of ensuring the well being of our small family, as he had been exiled through distance and a broken connection with my mother. They had been so young, my mother a flighty hippie of an art student and my father a rookie cop in Seattle, who moved to be chief of police in the small town of Forks, Washington. She had fought her family to marry him, but had then become steadily disillusioned with his simple town life. Their strained marriage was a direct product of her family's disapproval and, in their eyes, Charlie's less than stellar family pedigree. How they could have treated him with such contempt also was beyond me and fueled even more of my resentment. The moody, dour faced teenager stereotype had nothing on me. When I was twelve, he and my mother…um…briefly reconnected for nostalgia's sake when he came to visit in Phoenix. She had been uncommitted and Charlie had seemingly taken a vow of chastity after she left Forks. In other words, baby Renesmee had been quite the surprise. Charlie, knowing Renee still had no plans to commit, sadly left for Forks and parented from afar. He was never late with a support check, and then some, and came as often as he could for birthdays and other special occasions. But Forks was his home and Charlie was the undeniable source of my stubborn streak. In my absence, after leaving for college and then work, Renesmee had completely ceased her visits to Forks, insisting he meet her in California or any nearby region that had the luxury of sun. He gladly complied, but their relationship was slightly strained. He loved her unconditionally, but she could not remember him as a live-in-father. As a result, he had not fought Ren on her decision to leave Forks after six months, when she had been originally placed there following Renee's death, understanding her preference in coming to stay with me. I had been a constant for Ren, more like her mother than older sister with our vast age difference. Charlie's presence had unfortunately been insubstantial comparatively, and they had drifted even further apart when Ren was sent to live with him. Ren had never been averse to Charlie before, but with the death of our mother weighing on her mind, coupled with her melodramatic teenage tendencies, she needed familiarity. I had gladly complied, missing her terribly ever since we had been separated through my leaving. I was dreading the day in two years when she would leave again for college. Esme had been even more delighted, jumping at the chance to bond with her youngest niece. I know Charlie was incredibly saddened over the loss of Renee, but it grieved him even more that his daughters had unwittingly abandoned him. It's something I struggled with immensely, and I had no idea how to make it right.

_Not surprisingly, I still don't. Brainstorming may work for advertising prompts but is not exactly conducive to alleviating family dysfunction. _

While my family affairs were a steaming pile of hot mess, I had a stroke of luck personally. After two years of working on the West Coast, through the corporate sludge and the unending monotony that accompanied a marketing analyst job that did not live up to my expectations, another golden opportunity was shoved my way. My college buddy Alice was fired from her job

Let me start again.

My friend Alice, who I also had in mind with the previous IT venture, had a bit of a rebellious streak and wanted to wipe the slate of her previous employment. After two years of college, she began culinary school and was taken under the wing of a family friend who also happened to be a transcontinentally renowned chef. As a culinary artist, however, she needed the independence and space to develop her own style and technique, or so I was told by her with dramatic flair. Apparently she had thrown down her apron in defiance and left the polished interiors of a high end French restaurant kitchen in New York, of where she was a line cook and culinary apprentice. She had not received the appreciative applause that she had hoped would accompany such theatrics, and in addition was not given severance payment. I had been living something akin to a hermit, only opening my bank account to pay for food and rent, while Alice had a family full of wealthy doddering, old relatives who would not notice if she dipped slightly into her unopened inheritance. It was free reign for darling Alice to discover her passion and she was unencumbered by silly things like money.

_Bitter much? Yes, a little. _

My dream of IT clawed its way from the bowels of my memory and I was struck with sudden inspiration. If I took responsibility for the financial and business aspects, while Alice unleashed her well…Alice…on the decrepit building I had longed for from afar, the possibilities were endless!

Okay, there was one possibility and the chance of it coming to fruition was slim…but I finally had an excuse to pursue it. Alice had no job and I hated mine. I proposed for her to take a look at the property, and she accepted my offer in a manner of "Why the hell not."

Convincing Alice was not as difficult as I had first imagined. After careful planning and mapping and spending hours trying to pinpoint where exactly I had become stranded and saved, I was confident we would find what we needed. When we picked up the rental car from the airport, and attempted to make our way into Connecticut from JFK, we became hopelessly lost. Four pit stops, two gratingly annoying Hootie and the Blowfish CD's, and a highly emotional slap fight later, the sign for North Meadow shone like a beacon of hope, and we entered the town's confines. We came to an abrupt stop where the pavement crumbled and transitioned into loose earth. The "little building that could" had now become a town landmark, and an ill-maintained one at that. Stepping over the tall wispy grasses and various debris that found its way scattered along the property, I chanced another look.

IT was marvelous. Antique and decaying…but marvelous.

Alice, with a look of deep inquiry, stooped to extract a stray stone from the dirt and skipped it across the steps. Three panels of wood fell out with a groan, and settled at her feet.

With a giant smile splitting her narrow, sharp face, she turned and asked when and where we should start.

We moved, much to the consternation of my family and the joy of Alice's (they thought small town life to be so novel), and made the appropriate arrangements. The current owner was much more obliging this time than in our last encounter and we closed the deal. It didn't occur to us until a few weeks later that we should probably restore it for its original purpose (duh) as an inn. We cosigned on a loan, I was at least dependable enough to have good credit history, and drew up plans for the repairs and furnishings. In the meantime we won over the town's trust and heart, as the two little strange, yet endearing young woman entrepreneurs who shared a crummy one bedroom apartment and lived off the Pop-Tart supply at Newton's. Our troubles weren't over yet, though. Despite her initial enthusiasm, there had been many a night in which I had had to talk Alice down from the ledge over the entire ordeal. Rosalie and Emmet graciously helped out in any way possible, supplementing the work on the repairs, and Rose and Alice bonded over a mutual love for the art of amateur interior decorating. Alice spent her time as a cook for the Lantern Inn two towns over while I attempted an education of "Hotel Managament for Dummies" as an assistant manager in the same place. I had also taken night classes at Hartford Community College to complete an advanced business program for adults that would leave me with a degree akin to an abridged MBA. It was an undertaking that spanned another year into my ownership of the Hollow. When I graduated, Alice had thrown a celebratory bash which had ended in Rose, Alice, and Angela warbling drunken renditions of Bob Marley songs while Emmet lay passed out in a feather boa.

Yeah, another story for another time.

The Lantern Inn had been incredibly sour over our leaving, as they had not anticipated that we planned to go out on our own, and planned on blacklisting us. It would have definitely worked, except for the fact that they had a horrible freak, arson incident in which there were no casualties, but thousands of dollars in damage. Alice swears to this day she had absolutely nothing to do with it. They quickly lost any credibility they initially possessed, and we were left to pursue loftier ambitions.

Our inn was born a year to the month that we had moved to North Meadow, after a dual, painful labor of love and we had not looked back since. Well, except for the fact that we were, and still are, SO in the red. But so far, we had taken it one debt-ridden day at a time.

Coming to a halt before the intricately carved wooden door, I took in a sense of pride and accomplishment, realizing what IT was. IT was home, and my future.

Turning the wrought iron knob and stepping inside onto the cherry polished hardwood, my blissful reminiscing was brought to a halt by what sounded like a battle of epic proportions.

My peaceful morning reflection was over. Extending good mornings to the guests, up and eating breakfast in the dining room, as well as the nervous wait staff, I made my way towards the ruckus. I pulled the sous chef to the side after she silently crept out from hostile territory, _aka _the kitchen.

"Angela, what the hell's going on?" I asked in a harsh whisper. Her hand flew up to her chest in surprise.

"Oh, Jesus Bella. I didn't see you there." I waited as she regained some composure and as another flying piece of kitchenware clanged against the inside wall.

We both cringed in apology to the perplexed breakfast guests.

"Those two have been going at it since before eight, I swear, I think blood might have been drawn this time. Something over Alice secretly wanting Laurent to go off his diet and become an 'artery clogged fatso'."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Hey, his words not mine," she responded with her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Plus, Jasper's here to drop off the vegetable delivery, and we know how well all three of them get along." She sauntered towards a particularly shaken table to relieve the family's mind of the chaos taking place behind closed doors.

_Oh God, it's a powder keg waiting to explode_. I let out a disturbed whine and stomped my way through the double swing door, hoping to evade any flying ladles and grab one of Alice's freshly baked chocolate croissants.

It was truly a sight to behold.

Sunshine streamed ironically through the wide-paned windows, onto the three figures before me. Alice was poised to spring like a mountain lion on the hunt with a lumpy, white rock like object in hand. She was positioned to strike poor Jasper over the head as he cowered against the wide stainless steel sink. Medusa and her snake hair minions had nothing on the rocky stare that graced her face. Laurent was continuing his rant to Alice, his body stretched as far as he could extend it above the island, as his hands grasped a plate of waffles.

As I entered, the aforementioned snakes seethed venom as Alice tried her damndest to impersonate a Gorgon. "It's a freaking rutabaga! Does this lump of crap look like something I would ever feed my guests? I asked you specifically for the butternut squash. Butternut squash logically happens to be the main component in butternut squash soup…oh, but I'm sorry, you're an idiot and can't distinguish between a root and a squash! You are so useless!"

Alice was nothing if not incredibly committed to her somewhat bizarre interpretation of food.

"Zis waffle has ten more chocolat cheeps than I prefer. Alice, listen to me! I am on a very ztrict diet. God you are zo insensitive, you want me to bloat up like one of you uncouth Americanz."

"Alice, you called in this order freakin' last night! I don't have everything readily available at your disposal. For Christ sakes, put the damn vegetable down."

I was in complete shock. Nothing had ever escalated to this point. It had to be stopped.

Placing my middle finger and thumb in my mouth, I whistled long and hard and they froze mid argument, their heads swinging in my direction.

It would have been comical if it didn't occur on a weekly basis.

Alice dropped the depressing white lump to the floor with a sheepish look, and it miserably rolled into the dusty corner shadows in rutabaga shame. Laurent simply sniffed in greeting while Jasper just seemed relieved that he wasn't going to be brained with something he grew himself.

"Alright, you all are scaring away potential future guests, and we really don't need a bad review. Here's what we're going to do." I massaged my forehead in preparation of potential fallout. "Laurent, are you kidding me? Ten chocolate chips? This is really what's causing today's special brand of hell? "

"I reserve ze right…"

"Eat the damn waffles. And then it would be in all our best interests if you go to the front desk to check out the Zimmerman's."

Laurent "hmphed" and left the kitchen, all the while cataloguing under his breath exactly what he thought of Alice and, additionally, the Zimmermans.

Alice, jumping down to the floor, crossed her arms and glared at Jasper. He gave me an exasperated look, as he removed his knit wool cap and ran his fingers through his wild blond hair, shooting like demented stalks of golden wheat from his head.

"Alice, just make do with…that…I'm sure you can work it into something amazing."

"Bella, the squash was slated to be part of the autumn menu, which starts _today_. Now I have two weeks worth of crappy turnip. You can't improvise with art…" she cried out desperately.

I interrupted, "Alice, just deal. Jasper, I'm sorry about this. But you have gotten the last two orders mixed up. One more mistake and she'll have to seek a provider elsewhere."

"Bella, these weren't mistakes. I'm trying to better the quality of your food, I can't help that your chef is too inexperienced and rash to notice my superior selection in produce. Rutabagas are rich in carotene and are an excellent choice for this menu. I've done the science, I know these things."

I had to grab a hold of the back of Alice's chef jacket before she took a swipe at him with her clawed hands. Jasper cringed back against the dual wide fridge.

"I don't care. Just bring what Alice tells you to bring. And Alice, don't put in orders so late even if you struck with inspiration at three in the morning. The rest of the world sleeps, even if you manage to evade it for days at a time."

Through Jasper's annoyance, a glimmer of thoughtful curiosity passed over his face. "Actually, I'm usually up that late, too. I've been recording the progress of my new fall vegetable cuttings in the hothouse…"

_Huh? What now?_

"Jasper?" Under our alternately confused and belittling stares he shifted in discomfort.

"What? Are you surprised?"

"Uh, no." I really wasn't. Jasper seemed like the type whose spark of crazy genius was inversely proportional to the amount of sleep he received each night. "But that has to do with what, exactly?"

"Oh." His _non-sequiter_ hung anxiously awkward in the air, begging for someone or something to put it out of its misery. "Nothing, I guess. Just an observation."

Alice simply grumbled over how her meat, fish, and grain guys never gave her this much trouble. The odd, seemingly hopeful glimmer faded from Jasper, and he huffily finished unloading the rest of the vegetables. He ducked out the back door with a glare in Alice's direction and a small wave in mine.

"I've done the science," she mimicked in mockingly high screech as the back mesh door slammed shut. "Yea you're a burn out academic who left a real job to become a mad scientist who grows organic produce in the middle of Nowhere-Ville, USA. Pathetic! Don't even try to peg me as inexperienced," her mutterings continued.

I let out a burst of disbelieving laughter at the ridiculousness of the entire situation and even Alice cracked a grin while she started putting together the lunch menu. The remainder of the kitchen staff hesitantly filtered in, realizing the worst was over.

I noticed a tray of pastries abandoned to the side and quickly swooped in to grab one.

_Mmmm, come to Mama!_

"So Ren's off to big, bad Platt today?"

Alice's question broke through my croissant induced stupor and I found myself frowning once again.

I shook my head in response. "Big, bad Platt sounds like a nickname I would have given my grandparents."

Alice chortled and began chopping the innocent rutabagas left behind, with a vengeance.

"Maybe it won't be as bad as your making it out to be. I come from the same world and I turned out more normal than I could hope."

I turned towards quirky Alice and her diminutive stature, delicate features, and the stiletto boots she insisted on wearing in the kitchen to assert her authority. Even with a red bandana pulling her inky strands back and flour dotting her hands and forehead, she looked fantastic. She may have bugged me from time to time with her high maintenance tendencies, but a 'Platt drone' she was not.

"Yea, well you're the exception to the rule…and even then, I'm not so sure that wielding produce as a weapon counts as normal behavior."

She let out an evil snicker, no doubt replaying the related scene in her head. She had a bit of a sadistic streak when it came to her local food providers, especially Jasper.

I relayed the full events of my morning to her in detail and she listened on in amusement.

"Only you, Bella, would get on the dean's bad side on the first day. Not even _your_ first day of school." She chuckled as she tore some parsley. "What happened to the calm, poised Bella you insisted you were going to channel."

"Yeah, well she eloped with a tall, dark, and hopefully handsome stranger and they're halfway to Rio about now. I'm going to have to settle for tail-between-my-legs Bella." I grimaced as I remembered how boorish I had seemed. "All that matters is that he loved Ren, I mean how could he not? On top of everything, I have to go see Esme before I pick up Ren to straighten everything out."

"Hmm, I like your aunt. She's a classy lady. Remember when she asked me to cater the hors d'oeuvres at the wine tasting she hosted at her house in the Hamptons?" _Oh, how could I forget?_ _I was the one who got you the gig_. "Chorizo and shrimp en croute and glazed fruit tart. That was one of my best professional experiences to date. And Carlisle." _Oh, boy._ "He may be older and your uncle, but damn he's fine." Alice was staring dreamily at the spare woks she hung from the ceiling at this point, and I rolled my eyes in half disgust. Alice always thought I should make more of an effort to speak freely with my aunt and work out our issues. And become better acquainted with the so-called 'studly, doctor men' that flocked under Carlisle's authority. Neither of those would be happening anytime in the near future.

Leaning against the counter, searching my mind for a different route this conversation could take, I recalled something. "Oh, by the by, I saw this incredibly ostentatious car on the walk over this morning. It was like this blinding yellow, one of those racy, compact cars you always go on about. My day got somewhat better when a pigeon did its business on the hood."

Alice's smirk at my description fell at the last words, and her face notably blanched. She looked close to losing it.

"Yellow? Was it a Porsche?"

"Uhhh, I'm not su…uhhh…maybe?"

"Bella, Bella," her eyes formed wide, hypnotizing chasms as she attempted to reason an answer out of me. "I need for you to remember exactly the make of this car…"

_Oh Bella, just give it up. Of course you know it was this alleged Porsche. _

"So the horsepower on that baby, eh? You must be getting your fix, you little speed-demon you." My voice became legitimately smaller with each stalling word that passed my lips.

"THERE'S BIRD CRAP ON MY NEW PORSCHE?! BELLA!" She gave an agitated glare, somehow blaming me for not having the power to keep Mother Nature in check.

I choked on the croissant and glared back at Alice in defensive shock. "How the heck was I supposed to know it was your car? When you said 'new car' last week, I thought you meant something reasonable…c'mon a Porsche? How did you afford it anyway? God knows we have the same financial woes we did yesterday…"

"Oh, calm down, cheapskate. I took a loan from my parents, and am paying them back. Unlike you, I know that sometimes you have to swallow your pride and go with the flow….of your rich relatives."

"Jesus, a Porsche…"

"Give it a rest, Bella. Now I have to go out after lunch and clean it off before it dries. Poor baby's not even a week old." She continued simpering over the Porsche and I was forced to roll my eyes again while internally snickering at the mention of dried bird droppings.

"Whatever Alice, you got anymore of that chocolate hazelnut blend lying around here? I'm in dire need a refill."

She turned to lift the pot and warily poured half of it into the thermos I pleadingly held out before me. "This stuff gets lethal after your 10th cup or so," she informed me, raising her eyebrows.

I shrugged in defeat and left Alice to her issues with my caffeine intake and frugal ways. We could talk health and money later; I could already hear Laurent chewing out one of the maintenance guys and labeling him an imbecile.

_Oy, it's going to be a long day._

* * *

"And then I told her that she could just keep her opinions to herself, and she just looked aghast, as if I ran over her puppy or the like. I swear some of these other society women… you would think all they did was discuss…Bella? Bella!"

"What, what?"

I jumped in surprise on the brocade sofa in which I was currently seated. The cuff of my sleeve caught onto the rich fringe and my fruitless attempts to free myself were looked on in distaste. My eyes had been inevitably closing during Esme's inane retelling of an argument with her completely dimwitted society friends/arch nemeses, and her loud reprimand pierced straight through me. She had somehow convinced me to remain for some lemonade and cookies in the open air parlor after I came to discuss the incident, and I was currently wishing I had incurred her wrath instead.

"My goodness, I'm just trying to tell you my day and you aren't even listening. What on earth is going on in that head of yours?"

"Not thinking of running over your puppy, that's for sure," I grumbled under my breath. Actually, Esme and Carlisle did not own a puppy, so I would have to settle for mentally running over Esme's prized hydrangea bushes.

"Dear I may be pushing fifty, but I'm not going deaf." She eyed me speculatively and I groaned, pushing myself further into the sofa. She sat a little straighter and cleared her throat, and I rolled my eyes at her noting of my bad posture. I would sit how I damn well pleased. I defiantly stared back as I looked her over.

Esme looked gorgeous today, her caramel hair tinged with gray at the roots in loose curls and her blue sweater dress hitting just below her knees. The sunlight streaming through the glass panes gave her skin a minute glow. She sure as hell did not look fifty. It was not fair that her face evaded frown lines completely, while they had seemingly taken permanent residence on mine.

"Esme, I really have to…"

"Nonsense, you have another fifteen minutes." She waved her manicured hand dismissively. "Now I heard you made quite the impression with Dean Etrusca today. I know he's a bit…"

"Crusty? Highfalutin? Condescending?" I offered, hoping she would for once be in agreement.

"Bella, really. Highfalutin? Yes, he's a bit old fashioned but he is the head of Platt and an exemplary academic and administrator. I won't go into your, well, your wardrobe choice or your other strange behavior this morning, but please use more discretion next time. I'm only telling you this for Ren's sake."

_Holy Crap!_

"God, how did you even find out before I told…you know what? Never mind. It was all a big misunderstanding. Thanks for taking my side, as always."

"My pleasure, dear," she shot back with a hint of a smirk as she refilled her glass.

"All that matters is that he thinks Ren is God's gift to the teenaged student population."

"Yes, we are all so proud of her. We are also proud of _you_." she emphasized, as if I was a three year old who had just proudly hoisted up an arts and crafts hand turkey for her to coo over. "I've been saying since day one that I would like the chance to introduce you to some of our better connected friends and colleagues. It could do wonders for your business. If you weren't so stubborn…"

I opened my mouth in protest and she held up her hand. "I know, I know. With us paying half the tuition for Ren to attend Platt, you have already agreed to formal Friday night dinners. I am ecstatic we came to closing a deal," she finished sarcastically.

"I think the deal definitely shifts in your favor, Esme," I huffed. It certainly did with the amount of pain it was causing in my life.

"Bella, would it be that horrible?" She questioned. A sudden clatter and terrible scraping noises sounded from the outside patio, and interrupted her.

"What was that?"

"So sorry. You're uncle and I hired stone masons to redo the mosaic design on the patio and in the landscaped garden out back. You know, I usually do restoration and design projects myself, but we've so busy been planning the next Daughters of the American Revolution charity dinner…"

"Uh, Daughters of the American Revolution? Didn't your great grandfather immigrate to New York during the Irish potato famine? I'm not exactly sure how that ancestry plays into American independence…"

Esme rapidly cleared her throat. "Great-great grandfather and that's neither here nor there, Bella."

"Oooof course."

She shot me a warning glance. "Anyway, would it be so horrible to attend some social functions in our circle from time to time. I'm not asking permission to throw you a coming-out-cotillion, but we would love for our friends to see how accomplished and lovely you have grown. Think of the opportunities for Ren. You could be her gateway, she looks up to you so much!"

Esme was trying to be sweet, but the manipulation in her words countered her tone. She always used Ren as a convenient excuse to get through to me.

"I'm sorry, but the next time I want to be stuck in the company of oversized blowhards smoking Cuban cigars and their haughty, pearl-necked trophy wives, will be….never." My voice had risen as I emphasized the 'never'. Not the most mature of responses, but I was already tired of this bit of conversation. I mean, did she really believe there would be a chance that I and her friends would mesh well?

Esme's face fell as she digested my comment.

"After all this time, is that what you think of me?" she questioned in a low whisper, her eyes averted.

_Oh, no. That may have been a little harsh. _

I exhaled in guilt. "Esme, of course not, I mean you _are_ wearing pearls…but anyway, I don't think that about you. It's just…" She eyed me skeptically, clearly not buying the shame induced retraction. "It's just your friends. And Grandma."

Esme let out a little snort and we both laughed. That was one thing we were on the same page about.

"Honestly, I just wish you wouldn't interfere so much. I have a handle on this."

"Isabella, you are only twenty nine years old and are attempting to single-handedly raise your sixteen year old sister. Who has only been with you for the past six months." she added in a disbelieving tone. "I don't care how capable you think you are, you can't fool yourself into believing you can do it all on your own. You have your own life and what about well…your work, your needs? You can't always put that on hold. My goodness, I sometimes lay awake on the edge of a breakdown with how worried I am for you girls. I know how responsible you are, compared to your mother. My goodness, she took you both so far away…"

"Don't Esme. Just don't." I demanded with a final glare. She had veered into dangerous territory and I would not allow her to say another word about my mother. Not after everything.

She took a calming breath. "Alright, this may have gotten a little heated. But you are family, and I will help…whether you take it or I have to force it upon you. You may not be my children, but you girls are the most important things to me. I can't just turn a blind eye."

I sighed in defeat. There was no way we could properly conclude the ongoing feud at this moment. We'd been at a stalemate for the past year. I stood up and made a motion to leave by heading towards the foyer. Esme followed as she considered the question of her 'help' settled, and continued to prattle over details for the coming Friday dinner.

"Oh by the way, in addition to you both, we have some dinner guests on Friday. I would usually insist that we put it off for another day; you know how precious to me one on one time is with you girls, but they are stopping in the Northeast for only a short amount of time to visit their son. Carlisle is very fond of them. He talks about them often, maybe you heard him some time ago? The Masen family of the Chicago Masens?"

My eyes rolled as far as they reach to the back of my head, and I shrugged on my coat. Of course, they would be that upper-crust brand of family. "Since when are families referred to by cities? I didn't realize their legacy preceded them." I bristled.

Esme pondered that seriously for a minute. "Well, there are quite a few of them and they are spread far and wide across the Continental United States. But they're lovely people, the whole lot of them."

"I'm sure."

"Anyway, it should be just Edward Sr. and Elizabeth. Elizabeth was only a few years ahead of me in Dartmouth. Carlisle knows Edward Sr. from his residency days in Chicago before he moved here and met me. However, their son may make an appearance, depending on whether or not he has to travel to Hartford for business. He's an incredibly capable executive - my goodness, he's only twenty eight now- and is heading the East Coast branch of the marketing conglomerate Masen-Philips. Really admirable of him to do so, dropping his career plans to hold the business steady after Edward Sr.'s coronary three years ago. You know what's so peculiar is that he revered Carlisle growing up, was in such awe of your uncle that he was stubborn about going into medicine. He even completed four years at Harvard Medical, before he was to start residency at Mass General. Oh well, I guess the alternate career-path did not turn out so badly. I also hear he's quite a catch, Bella," she ended with mischievous approval in her voice. I almost turned to tell her that she shouldn't let Carlisle hear her speak that way about another man she's lusting after, when I realized she was hedging for a reaction. Esme was always under the impression that love and hate operated in the same vein, and one usually gave way to the other. With the way I was feeling towards her right now, I couldn't have agreed more.

I gave another sigh, and kissed her on the cheek, refusing to acknowledge her last statement. In due fashion, she willed me not to leave by quietly grabbing my hands and intertwining our fingers. I stood frozen, automatically sensing that she was about to lay down another one of her worthless excuses, concerning my mother, for my sake.

"You know I miss her, too. Renee? She was my big sister. You don't realize how much…" she paused briefly as her voice caught in her throat. "I really did try to help. You know this don't you?" Esme asked somewhat pleadingly, trying to catch my eye.

_No, Esme, no. I don't really know, because you didn't do enough_.

A traitorous tear slid its way down my cheek at her words and I quickly dispatched it with the cuff of my sleeve. Uncomfortable with the sudden change in the dynamic of our conversation, and afraid that I would voice my actual thoughts if I stayed any longer, I disentangled my fingers. She again followed me to the door.

"I know. Bye, Esme."

Her face darkened slightly before resignedly brightening again. We both knew we believed each other's words to be a farce, but carried on as if nothing happened.

"Goodbye, sweetie. I'll see you and Ren on Friday, 7PM sharp. I mean it Bella, be punctual."

"Yes, yes, okay, bye." I slammed the door carelessly behind me and entered the cool, autumn air. It's not like it mattered what I had to say. I had no choice but to be there on Friday.

* * *

Pulling up to the outdoor courtyard, I parked next to the flagstone plaza and waited for the school dismissal. Leaning against the door, I watched as the ever prompt Dean Etrusca made his way through the stone arches to the east wing of the building. My form caught his eye and he paused. Giving me an appraising look, he then continued onwards, nodding his head in acknowledgement as I gave a desperately exuberant wave. I wanted to ensure that my together-ness was fully comprehended by him.

_Good. Now he's seen that I can dress like a professional adult. _

Inwardly gloating over my small victory, I noticed the uniformed students flooding out into the plaza and was relieved that I would finally get the chance to see how Ren's day went. I spotted her hunched form making its way to the front and her head lifted. An expression of overwhelming dejection was clearly conspicuous on her face. Once I caught her eye, the misery was replaced with desperation and she half-flew across the distance between us. Dropping her backpack, she dashed into my arms. As she let out a pitiful sigh against my shoulder, I filled with rage and confusion over what could have caused her to react this way.

"Ren, sweetie, what's wrong? What happened? We can go to dean right away. I'm sure we would be able to get whoever bothered you expelled," I continued frantically. Her pain caused me to weirdly lash out in a dangerously maternal fashion- fangs bared and claws at the ready.

She let a watery laugh and dried her eyes on my shirt. Then the events of her day came out in a deluge of high pitched words. "No, Bella. I can handle it. Typical, private school hazing. All the teachers attempted to pronounce my full name, even though I kept insisting they call me Ren. I sat alone at lunch because I was too terrified to approach anyone. There was this psychotic over-achiever who thought I was trying to threaten her acceptance into Harvard, even though I only answered a question in class. Oh, and there was just this one guy who kept calling me Mary - I wanted to string him up by the balls - but I didn't even know what he meant, so I couldn't do anything about it. And all I want is to go back home. And for mom to be..." Her half formed admission lashed at me like a lick of flames. She didn't want me, she wanted a ghost. And in that moment, I almost wished for the same thing.

Then I remembered I was the closest thing she was getting to the grave, and bucked up, letting her finish.

"I mean, all I want is for this day to be over." She finished with a deep breath and placed her head back on my shoulder.

_Oh my God. I am going to mess up those kids. _

"Ren, I..." Fury aside, I honestly did not know what to say. Or do.

_Should I discourage her and put her back into North Meadow Public? Despite what I think, Platt does offer better opportunities. It definitely got Esme off my back. Should I tell her it can only get better now? Should I even leave such a huge decision up to her? Gah, she's waiting for you to speak. Think of something!_

"What do you want to do, Ren? I'm leaving this entirely in your hands." _Please say you want to leave. Please say you want to leave._

She frowned in concentration for a full minute before sweeping her curls back from her face.

"No, I can do this, Bella. I just needed to vent. First days suck hard!"

_Damn_.

"Oh Ren, I know," I assured her in defeat as I rubbed her back soothingly.

_Maybe, it will take her a couple of more days to change her mind._

I then pursed my lips to keep me from laughing out loud as I recalled the Mary comment she had seemed so upset over.

_Oh, to be young and clueless. _

"What? What is it?" Ren looked up questioningly as she felt the vibrations in my chest.

"When he called you Mary…he meant like the Virgin Mary."

Her eyebrows knit in confusion.

_Ugh, I hate explaining this. _

"You know, innocent, immaculate, Mother of God, ring any bells? They were trying to label you as the new, virginal school girl." My ire flared at the subtext of the teasing but there wasn't much I could do except approach the topic of sexual harassment if it continued. I would be damned if it did.

Ren's face cleared and she groaned, as I chuckled alongside in sympathy.

"Oh, there are so many worse things to be called." I assured her in false cheer. _Worse things, my ass!_ _What the hell kind of things are they teaching here? "_C'mon we'll go to Em's and see how much he charges for taking out snot-nosed, arrogant, preppie high school punks."

My visions of me slowly extracting the limbs of schoolboys, like a hyperactive five year old with a daddy-long leg, would have to wait for another day.

After an enthusiastic reassurance from Emmet that he would unleash a can of whoop ass on any high school punks that harassed Ren, for _free_, we took our respective coffees and left for the Hollow. Ren liked the atmosphere and volunteered to help with some of the administrative aspects after school, and I had yet to shelve the adequate amount of hours at work, today. Yes, yes even the owners had to give some face-time to those who take residence in their kingdoms- or in this case, ten-bedroom inns.

Unable to steer clear of the polished mahogany front desk, I was met with the disapproving and snippy frown of Laurent, who was fulfilling the role as The Hollow's concierge in addition to the less fun role as my "daily dose of migraine". He always took this time of the day to harp on any subject ranging from Alice to the new bath products we stocked each room with, and then he would return to Alice.

"Good, you are back. Where 'ave you been? I've 'ad to deal with ze idiots who insist on occupying zis place and I refuse to take any orders from ze other tiny, boss from hell. Why I bother even coming 'ere…"

"Laurent, not now," I pleaded wearily.

Although Laurent could be quite antagonistic, acerbic, and a plain pain in the ass, we all knew how much he loved us and the Hollow and that it would have killed him if we had not asked him to follow and join us from the Lantern Inn. So we always chose to disregard his diatribes and hissy fits – for the most part.

Shutting up, he turned his attention to Ren. She gave a bright smile and wave in his direction and his features softened marginally. Ren found Laurent and his attitude…amusing, and he tolerated her.

God knows the discrepancies between the two were so apparent that they could pilot their very own hit sitcom.

"You brought ze 'elp, good. Bella's leetle brat, please follow me, I need you to 'elp take inventory of ze office and front desk and organize ze gift baskets for ze guests arriving tomorrow…"

He trailed off as he swung through the office door, leaving Ren and I standing there alone.

"Yeesh. Are you sure you'll be alright? You don't have to work after the day you've had. Why don't you go watch some TV – I mean get started on some homework?"

_You're a responsible adult, Bella, act like it!_

"Bella, it was the first day, homework is kind of non-existent at this point. Plus, Laurent's really fun. Last time we got into a debate over the works of Maupassant from the La Belle Epoque era, and I swear steam actually shot from his ears. I'm hoping for a repeat to take my mind off what happened today."

"Alright, just make sure he doesn't explode. I have a feeling his ghost would come back to haunt us until the end of days." A sour faced spectre floating over the inn and giving me hell was not the friendliest image my mind could conjure.

"Duly noted." She swung her arms and cheerfully left to harass Laurent.

I chuckled and took over the front desk, hoping to get some much needed time alone with our books. Luckily, our records had been converted electronically, after we discovered Stone Age technology put us at a bit of a disadvantage business-wise, and all the numbers were mapped before me in Excel spreadsheets_._

_Now if only a click of the mouse would magically erase the overdue balances and provide us with a ridiculously large profit. _

Though we had a steady stream of business and our loans had magically kept a low rate of interest, we were just able to make enough of a profit to properly distribute the various salaries. Alice had worked out the current predicament by letting go three of her kitchen staff, which was not a pleasant experience, and I had taken a little out of my paycheck each month to reserve for maintenance and other miscellaneous tasks that needed taking care of around The Hollow. I still needed to move some money around to make do with our infinite bills this month, but I groaned when I realized how disgruntled Alice, Laurent, and the rest of staff would be with a pay cut. They, of course, didn't realize the even bigger sacrifices I was making. I guess I could have made do with another cut, but now I had Ren and the monetary demands of Platt to think of. And even through Esme and Carlisle were contributing and Charlie religiously sent checks every month, I was in a bind.

Letting my head fall into my hands and rubbing my eyes, I let out a frustrated growl.

I heard the click of heels against hardwood as a plate of large yellow, citrus squares drizzled with chocolate slid onto the desk, underneath my solid curtain of brown hair. I was a little disappointed that despite the fact I used my hair as an impenetrable shield, it didn't even slightly guarantee that I was completely hidden from view.

_Accio Invisibility Cloak!_

It didn't work. The hair crept slowly back from my face as Alice slipped bony fingers onto my scalp.

_Oh Alice, what are we going to do?_

"I'm going to balloon up if you keep feeding me like this," I protested weakly in a muffled voice.

"Too bad. I need these lemon squares evaluated by a seasoned taste tester, but I'm going to have to settle for you. I'm planning for these to be dessert tonight and I think I don't think the lemon is proportional to the square."

"Alice, what the hell are you talking about? That doesn't even make sense." I wasn't exactly in state of mind to go along with one of her fanciful culinary expressions. I straightened my back and looked up into her clear, blue eyes as they anxiously searched my expression.

"Hey Bella, are you okay?" She lightly traced a finger under my eyes, outlining the evident dark patches that vigorously signified my lack of sleep. I batted her fingers away while rubbing slightly where they had been. She continued her observations, unfazed. "You haven't been sleeping much?"

"When have we have ever slept 'much', in the past five years? You harassed poor Jasper at three in the morning. Between work and beating on him, when was the last time you slept a full eight hours?"

"You're assuming that I don't fall asleep right after."

"Then I'm glad you're keeping to an undisturbed REM cycle."

"Bella…"

"What!?"

"Stop being difficult. What's wrong? You look like hell." _Oh wonderful, it's not just me thinking that, then._ "That and I heard moaning and I figured you were looking over our finances again. It's that bad, huh?" She chewed her bottom lip a bit before I puffed my cheeks and let out a slow breath.

"Yeah, things are tight, but I'm going to figure it out. I can cut the "Old Town Tour" carriage rides for the upcoming month and if I take out some money from my check…," Alice interrupted my mental tabulations with a condescending scoff.

"Bella, honestly. The whole martyr thing? You don't pull it off very well and I'm frankly tired of the daily dosage of Catholic guilt."

"I'm Episcopalian."

"Whatever. That's not the point." Her eyes twinkled sympathetically and she rubbed her knuckles softly against mine, releasing a resigned sigh. "I know what you've been doing, with the secret reverse embezzlement of your money into the Hollow accounts, and I was incredibly dense to not offer this before so…"

_Say it. Say it. _I raised my eyebrows in expectation as she huffed in frustration

"I'm the one who bought the fancy, foreign car…I'll take the cut for the next four or five months." She doled out in an unusually rehearsed manner. She had obviously taken the time to think this over, even if only reluctantly.

Guilt and relief flooded my entire body in equal parts. "Alice, really, it's ok…"

She lifted her hand to cut off my weak reluctance. "Bella, I've offered. Now have the decency to gratefully accept it before I pull a Richard Gere jewelry box stunt. Besides, if you smile any wider you're going to burn my retinas."

_Oh, is that my face splitting in ecstasy? I didn't even notice. _

My maniacal grin subsided to a softer, grateful smile and I mouthed a thank you. Alice in my corner had me wanting to bellow out a desperate 'Adrian' and take Apollo Creed out with an uppercut for a well-deserved victory.

_But I'm no Rocky. Or Stallone. So I'll settle for mocking. _

"Not enough lemon per square, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "What? I needed a way to broach the conversation, and you looked like you needed a pick-me up." I just let out another chuckle and she continued earnestly. "Honestly though Bella, four or five months and then Laurent's getting the ax if things don't pick up. If the cut isn't enough…we'll have Grendel gnaw through Laurent's brakelines and make it look like an accident. Then we won't have to go through the trouble of firing him and paying him for it." she finished in half-seriousness.

"You really think we could get away with that?" I asked hopefully. We weren't the _Cosa Nostra_ but Alice could pull off the attitude of a steely, disenchanted hit-man any day of the week.

Laurent came hurriedly bursting through from the office. I groaned into my hands as I was usually prone to do when things came to a head with Alice and Laurent.

I'm sure she had hoped he was eavesdropping.

"Everything okay, Laurent?" Alice could barely keep her face straight.

He pinched his mouth, on the brink of another tantrum.

"It was a joke...," came my muffled plea.

Alice just heaped on, because honestly, the girl can't help herself. "But not really."

Hurriedly looking back and forth between the both of us, he rearranged his face into a murderous glare.

"I 'ate you both," he let out in an obnoxiously nasal tone and proceeded to leave again.

_Ah yes, oh happy day. _

"Bella, Rose just called my cell phone. She told me to ask you if you're completely deaf because she's been pounding out the number to your cell for the past fifteen minutes." _Hey now, no need for that, it's on vibrate._ "Anyway, apparently Grendel's been uhh…_fertilizing_ her lawn. She says she's two seconds away from calling the pound, and that you need to clean up after him ASAP if you want the roof repaired in the next decade." Ren conveyed the message with an unfitting trill.

_Ugh, maybe not_.

For the second time that day I left the inn, this time embracing not my role as loving sister, niece, or guardian, but that of poop-smith.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	2. Friday Night's All Right With Me

I own nothing except my original thoughts and ideas, Meyer and Palladino own all! Please, please review!

* * *

"Turn it up!"

"Alright, alright!"

"Turn that the, hell down!"

"Hey, this is great stuff!"

"It's crap!"

Our grooving to the electric beats of MGMT was rudely interrupted as Emmett angrily screeched for an end to the music. We ignored the unappreciative comment and continued to waft in the sphere of lazy, Friday afternoon that had surrounded us. The bubbles we were currently blowing through plastic rings on the front porch glistened in the low sun, and drifted slowly through the autumn bled trees and into the town horizon. Grendel leisurely meandered below them, making the occasional effort to leap and capture one with his massive tongue. The faded pink bottles of soapy mixture were found abandoned on the expanse of wasteland that was the basement of the Hollow. Our futile venture to clean and sort through the musky depths led to far more fun than mine and Alice's previous encounter with bats and a molding moose head in the attic. The Animal Control representative we had immediately summoned claimed to have rid us of both problems – he was quite taken with the moose head- but when nights were quiet we would swear we could the flapping of phantom wings.

Ren and I figured the bubble bottles were simply long forgotten relics of a batty 1950's small town wedding, and happily absconded with them back to the house. Luckily, Laurent had painfully agreed to supervise the Hollow until Leonard the night watchmen took his post, and I was left to my own devices for the remainder of the day, until we had to leave for Hartford. As was conveyed by our current activities, it had been a very productive afternoon.

An irritated click put an abrupt end to the music and Emmet's behemoth form hovered threateningly over the large outdated stereo. When Ren and I felt especially bored, we would take turns hauling it over our shoulders and walk around lip syncing a la that eighties stereo-walking movement.

"Bella, I should complain of noise pollution at the next town meeting. This poor excuse for a song is annoying the hell out of me."

"Then you should have never moved next to ultra-trendy women neighbors who have super hip taste in music." I shot back.

"Swan, that house you call yours was abandoned until two years ago…when I informed you of it and sheltered your sorry ass.

"Ahh, details. The point is we're here now and the hipster music stays…like a corny Doublemint commercial. Those things are timeless, like a piece of swallowed gum."

"Hey Bella, we should try out to be the next Doublemint twins and flaunt our wholesome sass." Ren piped in.

"Well thought Ren. You can be Mindy and I'll be Suzy."

"Hey…I want to be Suzy."

"Too bad, I'm the oldest."

Emmet glared and sighed comically, as his requests for peace from new age electronica-rock went unheeded and as we continued our banter over our big break in television. He turned slightly to leave and the breeze shifted his white t-shirt and plaid button down to form to his tight muscle. If Emmett hadn't been stuck in the friend-big brother zone that had befallen him since we met – and if he wasn't married to every man's wildest dream - there is no doubt that his physique would have affected me. However, sadly, it only reminded me of what I now lacked.

I groaned in the most primal of frustrations and kicked the back of my Converse into the porch step. Both Ren and Emmet shot me looks of confusion and bemusement, before the crunching of fall leaves underfoot caught our attention, and the aforementioned woman made her presence known in grease stained coveralls.

"Hey guys…Em you promised me a nice dinner in New York tonight. Let's get crackin'." She slapped him lightly on his behind and he jumped slightly with a grin. I shuddered while Ren chortled and placed the bubble tube on the steps. Grendel came lumbering back from his romp in the leaves and panted his way through the front door.

_Probably to go eat a pair of my shoes. That dog is turning into a tubbo. _

God I wanted to leave with them. Thinking about facing Esme tonight and her horde of Hartford-Chicago social elite gave me a migraine. The Masens probably never had anyone less enthusiastic to meet and greet them.

Instead of pleading, I mocked them. "New York, huh? Fancy schmancy, you guys thinking about finally taking a risk and making it as 'actors'?"

"Hilarious, Bella, really, truly. No, Em and I are going to dinner with one his former associates at Nobu and then we're staying overnight in the brownstone we still own on 72nd and Park." She rolled her eyes as Emmet kissed her cheek sweetly and tightened his grip around her waist. "Although, I have no freakin' idea why we haven't sold it yet, it's been seven years."

"For nights such as this, my delicate Rose."

I snorted at Emmet's saccharine phrasing – Rosalie was anything but delicate and did not have to go to lengths to prove it. She smacked his arm with an uncommonly shy smile. Such juxtaposition with actions and emotions, these two had.

The surprising and not so sordid facts about Rosalie and Emmet's past were these.

A. Emmet was a young albeit high powered executive in a Fortune 500 company in his mid 20's when he met B. Rosalie, a young albeit unhappy engineering analyst at Con Edison. They met C. when she broke a heel on ridiculously expensive shoes on a sewer grate and she managed to twist while smacking him in the head as he tried to brush past her. They D. exchanged heated words –she called him a buffoon for being in her way when she was rushing towards a new job interview- and he ended up with wounded pride. He E. asked for her number to help pay for repairs to her shoe and she F. saw through his poorly disguised attempt in hitting on her, but gave him her number regardless. They G. settled and moved in together after six months, though not necessarily fulfilled with their current employment. Rosalie's favorite uncle soon passed after this development and realization, leaving behind a family owned garage that had no offspring to continue it. Rosalie, spending most her summer growing up and free time visiting and tinkering around with cars, machines, and motor run vehicles, had a good grasp of the manual labor and urged Emmet to move to North Meadow so she could take over. Emmet H. almost flat out refused, but then I. realizing he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman, agreed to help with the financing and business aspects. They J. dropped everything and moved away from the big city to North Meadow, found a cozy home, and Emmet surprised the whole town by taking over the old mom-and-pop diner where the owners had retired and planned to close down. "After all," he had apparently stated with a knee slapping guffaw, "I need a break from my Rose at some point during the day." He paid well over its worth to the couple who originally owned the place to comfortably retire and launched his career in food service. He found he was quite fond of being a small town staple and Em's was born. Emmet and Rosalie single-handedly helped revitalize the small town's circulating revenue, while managing to avoid resentment over their somewhat takeover of the town. There were still many other a small business still intact and they K. lived a happy, simple life that offered them all of the vices they liked and none of the virtues they didn't. Alright, I jest, but A and B's story became achingly boring after this.

Emmet and Rosalie were the foils to the typical career-driven, power couple. They could have easily chosen a charmed life with a West Side Manhattan penthouse to boot, but instead they chose to be happy doing something that they could bear to be doing from nine to five. And in doing so, they entered my life, blessing me with their free truck tune-ups and oh-so-good dark roast coffee beans. And like Emmet stated before, they were the reason I was able to transition from paying rent in a dorm room of an apartment to paying a mortgage on the house I currently occupied. They had, in effect, made something of me that I wasn't capable of doing on my own.

They had made me a grown-up. And luckily they had done it just in time. Ren came to live with me merely a year later.

I smiled ruefully up at the two of them as they continued their conversation in hushed whispers, giggling occasionally when they each said something increasingly inappropriate. While it was sweet, they were doing it for an audience consisting of me - the bitter, loveless harpy - and Ren, who was an underage, impressionable youth.

I broke it up in my usual fashion. "Alright, I'm kicking you guys off my lawn because I am in fact envious of the idea that your evening will be better than mine. Yes, I reserve the right to make others pay for having a better dinner plans than me."

They gave me superior smirks; implying that they knew they had better plans, but Rosalie asked again, regardless.

"So what's the plan for you guys tonight, Bella?" she questioned.

I swiveled to stare balefully at Ren who suddenly found the hangnail on her right pinky to be a matter of great significance. She continued to stare markedly at it, picking at the edge, as I reluctantly answered Rosalie.

"Get in. Get fed. Get out. Try not to be wrangled in by small talk of Alan Greenspan and martini lunches."

Emmet hunched over and slapped his knees laughing. "Any conversation that has those two things in the same sentence is a winner." He let out another obnoxious snort.

Rosalie simply gave me an indulgent smile. She was truly a sympathetic ear when it came to Aunt Esme, but I don't think she ever believed things to be as bad as I made them to be.

We made some tentative plans to meet for a late lunch the next day, as they claimed they wanted to hear all about Ren's first week at Platt. In reality, they wanted to hear my dry account of the soon to be had, Friday night dinner. I sighed as they continued onwards to their house, hand in hand.

They had just passed by the still dented steel pipe on the border of our lawns, when Emmet turned and yelled back towards me.

"Swan, try actually enjoying yourself! Look at the up side, it's a free meal!"

Rosalie slapped his back and he turned away, shrugging in a manner of "What did I say?", as she told him to hurry up and shower so they could get a move on.

I wrinkled my forehead as Ren nudged her sneakered foot into my side. I ignored her. She repeated the action, again and again, until I finally snapped at her.

"What?"

"Geez, Bella, relax. I'm sorry you feel this way about it, but I think you're taking the whole thing way too seriously. It's kinda nice having family around like this. Uncle Carlisle will be there." she stated enthusiastically.

"Renesmee, how much time have you spent around Esme?"

She hesitated at my use of her full name. "Uhh, well, I mean not that much. We were kind of on opposite ends of the country for most of my life, you know that. But she looks out for us Bella. She's helped us with Platt. And Uncle Carlisle…."

"Mmhm, and how much time have I spent around Esme?"

"A lot, I guess."

"Good." I stood up finally, running my palms over the wrinkles in my jeans. I gazed intently at the rustling leaves in the afterglow of the waning sunset, debating whether or not I should tell Ren what exactly was going through my mind. The levity and carefree nature of our afternoon quietly faded, and it started to turn dark. And chilly.

I shivered a little before I continued. Ren needed to get what I was about to say through her head.

"Listen to me carefully, Ren, because once I say this, you're going to have to take it seriously. Esme is not an innocent, doting aunt that is simply there to look out for you when I don't have the time. If she could have, she would have taken you from me and dad." There was a pause of stunned silence as I let Ren digest the information.

Ren opened her mouth in a disbelieving sneer and I stared back at her, fully knowing that she hadn't taken what I said seriously.

"What? You don't believe me? Think about it for a second…."

She interrupted again. "That's stupid, Bella. You and Charlie are immediate…"

"Family? Yeah we are immediate family. So what? Esme and Carlisle are a solid married couple with no children of their own. I'm not your mother and dad wasn't exactly a fulltime parent. They own a mansion in one of the most affluent communities in the United States, and make more money than dad and I combined. More than enough to give you a comfortable life for the next two years." I stepped onto the porch, crossing my arms. "In addition to that, they have connections. A LOT of connections. Yeah, it would have been difficult for them to make their case at first, but they would have won. Eventually, they would have held up in court over custody for you. Above me and dad. And 'Uncle Carlisle'," I emphasized air quotes around his name,_ "_would have helped. He wouldn't deny Esme anything. He would say it was for the best."

Ren persisted in her denial. "I never would have gone with them." she decided, her voice rising.

I peered over towards her. Her face had fallen as she struggled to come to terms with what I had said. I could almost see the disbelief and anger battling in her head.

"Ren, you wouldn't have had a choice," I voiced softly.

"Charlie would have never let that happen. _You_ would never let happen," she stated desperately, grasping at straws.

I remained silent, not wanting to upset her further with my response to her assumption. Of course he would have. It was what Charlie did best: Passively let things happen. As much as Renee's parents and family were the instigators of our family dysfunction, Charlie was not completely free of blame. He was a pro at sending money, giving whatever amount was stipulated by law every month, but he didn't know how to _be _there. Yes, I felt badly about everything he had gone through, and about him being alone, thousands of miles spanning between us. But he had not stepped up in the way I had. He had not tried harder for Ren's sake; instead he shied away because of his lack of confidence in himself.

Charlie would have let it happen because he didn't have enough belief in himself as a parent.

He would have thought it was better for her to live with Esme and Carlisle because he never believed he had enough to offer. If there was any chance he could have convinced Renee to stay with him or me to move back home, he would have gladly accepted the role of a present father figure. That way he could have had a backup in case of a mistake on his part, or a bad parenting move. But Renee never stayed, and I could not, would not, abandon Alice and leave her alone to manage the business we had built. Charlie was near retirement, and had no strings keeping him in Forks, and yet he was unwilling to make the sacrifices. Of course, he had wanted nothing more than for Ren to live with him, but he never believed he could actually be a good father. With Charlie it was always a self-fulfilling prophecy: He never believed he could keep his wife and daughters happy, and in turn, they weren't.

"Ren, you know we both love you so much, but…." I struggled to finish the rest of my thought in a way that would not make it seem as if I was questioning Charlie's feelings towards her.

"No, I really don't want to hear any more, Bella. Wow, just…wow." She stood, stomping her way into the house, turning right before she slammed the screen door, narrowly missing my face.

"How could you even say those things? I came by my choice, I'm _here_ by _my_ choice. I'm not playing into some little mind game of Esme's." She gestured wildly towards herself with an outstretched finger. "And Esme and Carlisle have been nothing but supportive since I've come. You always do this. You twist things until it's Bella vs. the World." _Okay, that was unnecessary._ "They wouldn't hurt you and Charlie like that. They wouldn't hurt _me_ like that. They wouldn't…," she trailed off, her heavy breathing condensing into clouds of frost in the rapidly cooling air. "They loved Mom." she simply stated, her belief in Carlisle and Esme's seemingly innocuous intervention in our lives no longer wavering.

Like I had said before, Renesmee could not clearly see what I was trying to tell her, and it was futile to relay to her the full extent of my past experiences, at this moment. We had a dinner to attend in a little more than an hour, in which there was no choice but to put on a happy charade that would leave no doubt over the worry-free lives we were leading together. They would ask her about her first week at Platt and about my business, and gloat to the Masen's over our amazing ability to adapt in the face of tragedy. And I would quietly endure. We would quietly endure.

Because that's what the Swan girls did. Endured.

Ren trudged inside to change into the new sweater dress and tights she had recently bought for the occasion, as I let out a pained sigh. I could hear her slamming the closet doors in her fury, and I reluctantly headed inside and up the stairwell, remembering the short maroon chiffon dress with the cinched waist and ruched neck that Alice had luckily lent me for the evening. I was under strict instructions to neither spill food nor drink on it, as that would end very badly for me. It was a little short, just ending above the knees, but I was going to pair it with the knee-high black stiletto boots that had been languishing in the back of my closet since I had bought them. I guess I never really had occasion to wear them before…and now I did.

I wished that this had not been the occasion.

Ripping the dress from its hanger, I stood clutching it, listening intently for any telltale noise from downstairs. The slamming had seemed to taper off, and though that gave me some relief, I knew there was still turmoil to be had. As I began to unbutton my shirt, I reminded myself to grab the bottle of dessert wine I had left to be chilled in the fridge. I let out a snort when I remembered we would be sharing it with more than just Esme and Carlisle.

_I hope the Masens like port. _

I slammed the door shut to my truck, giving a disgruntled face when a few rusted flakes of the antique paint job on the driver side door, fluttered onto the cobblestone drive.

_If Esme had seen that, she would have forced me suck it up with a Hoover. _

The door slammed on the opposite side, and Ren came into view in the front of the truck, looking down to adjust the dress over her tights. I sidled a worried glance to her side, wondering if she would continue the silent treatment she had judiciously executed on the ride over. It had been almost unbearable, the suffocating silence inside the dark cab only punctuated by the wheezing of my truck engine and the static tunes of 105.5/Y105, the best of Hartford's rock alternative. It was time for a much needed intervention, as we were now only 10 feet from the front door.

"_They will not see me fail,_" I repeated to myself.

I walked up quickly, and grabbed her hand as she ambled towards the highly embellished patio. She looked back and glared suspiciously, but at the same time, did not make any motion to squirm away. Giving a small, sympathetic smile, I let out my apology.

"Ren, we can't keep arguing like this. I really don't want to go in there with a cloud hanging over us. I'm sorry that I made you upset, it wasn't right of me to just unleash all of that on you. I guess it was the resentment talking." _Pssht, more like it was the truth. _"I'm not asking you to harbor anything against Esme and Carlisle…I just want you to make careful decisions with them. That's all." She continued to avoid my gaze and I sighed.

"Ren, we are officially the only two sane, non-trust fund brigade individuals about to enter this house, do you really want to keep ignoring me?" I brushed a curl back from her face and rested a hand on her shoulder. She looked at me sourly for a few seconds, before her face morphed into a look of resigned relief. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she pulled herself into me for a hug, which I happily reciprocated.

"I know. I know how much you do. How much you have done. I'm sorry if I don't say it enough, but I appreciate you. And I'm happy here. I'm going to try harder." I hugged her tighter with those words.

I knew exactly what she meant by that statement. "Me too, Ren." _We'll be okay. I have to believe we'll be okay_.

"I'm sorry I called you a jerk."

"You better be sorry, brat. I don't tolerate any of this back talk."

Pushing herself away from with an amused snort, she turned quickly and almost rammed herself into the car parked ahead of us. Her hands found purchase on the hood, and surprise marked her features as she regained her balance.

"How did I not see that?"

Chuckling at her misstep, I glanced at the silver hood of the vehicle, noting the lack of rust spots and extensive windshield bug stains. It was a nice car, a hatchback, most definitely well maintained. I glanced over to the car parked next to it; black, a little flashier, the hood emblem relaying that it was a Lexus. I looked back again to the front of the silver car, straining to see what it was. The symbol I found was an arrowed circle, the letters displayed clearly stating the brand.

_It's a Volvo_?

"Huh."

"What?"

"It's a Volvo."

"What's a Volvo?"

"The car you almost dented, klutz-a-rina. It's a Volvo."

Ren stared at me, puzzled with my observation. She gestured for me to continue.

"And?"

"Well, it's not what I would have expected."

"Uhh, okay. What did you expect?"

"A private chopper making its way down onto the front lawn."

"Really?"

"No, not really, God, you're gullible. The Lexus I expected; the safety awarded, soccer-mom Volvo, not so much. It's, I dunno," I struggled with a word to convey the sudden flutter of warmth I felt at seeing this vehicle, "a nice down-to-earth kind of car. Kind of gives you the feeling you get when you're safely nodding off, in the back of a moving car at night."

"You got all of that just from glancing at a Volvo?" Ren asked slowly, trying to understand my sudden love affair with a car I barely knew.

I straightened up, wiping the half-smile from my face. I had no idea what had just come over me. "Yeah, umm, we should get moving."

"Whatever, maybe the mysterious Masens aren't as pompous as we're expecting them to be."

_Ha!_

I had told Ren earlier about the additional dinner guests and she was now excited. Meeting new people had always been a thing with her.

"That I highly doubt. The Masens of the _Chicago_ Masens are probably waiting inside with their velvet smoking jackets," I stated. Giving her a smirk, I pulled her onto the dais with me, once again nervously anticipating the opening of a door.

_My world is freaking full of doors. _

Placing the chilled wine bottle in my left hand, I raised my fist to knock on the dark, molded wood.

Before I could even do so, a smattering of voices sounded from the inside and the door swung open, allowing a sliver of light from the foyer to fall into the blackness of the night, and startled me half to death.

"I swear they should be here by now. I said seven sharp…."

"Gah, ahh!" My voice rose to the level of a shriek, and I raised my hands in defense.

"Oh my goodness!" Esme's hand flew to her chest as she exhaled heavily, and I, still gasping, did the same. "Isabella! You scared me out of my skin! What were you doing, standing outside in the dark? You nearly gave me a heart attack, screaming like that!"

_Gave you a heart attack. Madam, you nearly sent me into anaphylactic shock. Geez. Ok, just Esme. My God woman, get a hold of yourself. Responsible adult, remember?_

I struggled to explain myself as I recovered from my shock.

"I was about to….and the door….heard…light…Volvo?" I finished pathetically. I gestured wildly towards her as her eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. I couldn't blame her. I wasn't even able to decipher the nonsense that was coming out of my mouth. I looked towards Ren, and her face screwed up in a futile attempt to quell the rise of gut wrenching laughter that was about to spill forth from her.

We both finally recovered and Esme gave me a haughty glare.

"Enough of this silliness. Please come inside, you're already five minute late." She moved to the side of the door, opening it widely as Ren and I hesitantly filed in.

"Smooth, Bella." Ren offered with obvious glee.

"Shut up." I whispered back out of the side of my mouth.

Esme gave another disapproving glance, but then plastered on a ridiculously wide grin as she acknowledged Ren's presence.

"Renesmee!" she exclaimed, as she pulled Ren in by the shoulders and lovingly assessed her. "You're looking even more lovely and grown-up than usual. Did you grow out your hair?" She fingered the red-brown curls as Ren simply responded with a glowing smile of her own. "Your outfit is wonderful; I adore this shade of gray on you. You're looking a little peckish, dear; did you have enough to eat today?"

_Oh, please, the girl basically inhales the contents of my fridge every week. _

Esme turned towards me accusingly. "Bella, there is really no excuse for your being late."

_Ha, even if I had a gaping head wound and five broken ribs, she would say the same thing. _

"Renesmee is probably starving. I hope you both are eating properly. Well, we have wonderful meal spread for you now, please come inside, the others are waiting. I can't wait for you to tell us about your first week at Platt. How are you finding it? Challenging, in a good way, I hope." Ren just shrugged helplessly at me, as Esme rambled and commandeered her into the formal living room, off the dining room area, and left me standing in her wake.

I grumbled as I set down the bottle onto the hardwood floor with a heavy clunk, and tugged the strap from the short black, khaki trench coat I wore, pulling it from my shoulders.

"Hello to you too, Esme. I'm doing fine, Esme, how about yourself? Oh the Hollow, Esme? Oh just business as usual, you know. Oh, my outfit? Oh, it's nothing, you look lovely too, Esme." I continued muttering under my breath, disconcerted by her abruptness. I hung the coat in a messy pile, in the closet of the small alcove off the foyer.

The sound of footsteps descending and pausing on the winding staircase leading to the second floor, caught my attention. I turned, already knowing the identity of the individual. And hoped he hadn't been a bemused audience to my one-sided conversation.

Clad in his off-duty sports coat and dark grey dress pants, Carlisle stood in silent content, his blue eyes widening behind his rimless spectacles as I turned. A great, beaming smile lit up his entire face.

"No, no." He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "It cannot be that the same-tear stained Isabella who allowed me to put a band-aid on her skinned knee, right after she managed to fall off a motionless bike, is this beautiful, sophisticated woman standing before me right now."

I rolled my eyes with a smirk. "The one and only, Carlisle. That story gets better every time you tell it. The embarrassment doesn't even register." The sarcasm in my voice was not lost on him.

"Only because it's true every time, dear, and tonight you have truly outdone yourself. And we have company tonight; the opportunities to mortify you are limitless."

In uncharacteristic timidity, I crossed my arms and gave him a begrudging smile, as he hopped down the remaining stairs. Carlisle had a quiet way of making every single woman he came across feel as if she was the magnetized center of the world's attention. I hadn't always been accustomed to it, so his compliments and easy laugh used to slightly unnerve me. However, now, with his kind demeanor and full head of graying sandy hair, it was clear to see how Esme fell so completely for him. And how she managed to ensnare him with the confidence of beauty, intelligence, and a hellcat wit. Or so he says.

_I think I may have liked 'hellcat Esme.' _

He came and took me by my shoulders, giving me a peck on my cheek as I returned his warm embrace. He stood back again. "My dear, you are truly a vision. You must have people checking in to your place just for the mere sake of catching a glimpse of you. Any young men we should know about?"

He chuckled as I shook him off and gave him an aggravated glare. "No one you would ever approve of, Carlisle. Only the basket cases, the momma's boys, and the scary ones that venture out at night." I joked.

"Oh, I absolutely approve. The scarier the better, has always been my motto. What's he like, tattoos and piercings, hmm? Maybe a convicted ax-murderer? Or a mime?" He shuddered lightly. "I hate clowns, and those are the worst kind. Oh wait, nocturnal you said…..a vampire?" I just shook my head in laughter as he continued.

"Even worse, a Baldwin brother." I deadpanned. "How goes the slicing at the hospital?"

"People couldn't be sicker and in more need of surgery. It's been keeping me in business." He replied cheerfully. He placed an arm over my shoulders, leading me to where everyone was indulging in a pre-dinner cocktail.

"Oh, wait, the wine." I doubled back, making to grab the bottle off the ground. The condensation dripping down the glass made it a little slippery in my already sweaty palm, so I handed it off to Carlisle.

He took the amber bottle in both hands, studied the label, then opened his mouth wide and exclaimed his approval.

"A white, Douro River Valley port? How unique! My God, Bella, this probably cost you something big, we only have two bottles of Douro Valley in our wine rack."

"No worries, it was a gift from a customer at The Hollow. He was a Portuguese businessman; I think he had some work in Hartford. Anyways, he was so impressed with our service; he sent this as a token of thanks." I gestured towards the bottle. "I had to beat off a very zealous Alice with a stick to get it back home, you know."

"As you should have, my dear Bella. As you should have. That Alice is a funny one, how is she?"

_Ugh, lusting after you, actually. _

"She's as Alice as ever." I gave casually.

"That's good to hear. Now let's go inside. I'll set you up with a drink, and then there are some friends of mine that I want you meet." He took my arm and steered me towards the room once again, almost tripping me over my heels in his haste. Carlisle was always of a good temper, but right now, he was downright giddy.

_Gah, what is so special about these people?_

We swept in and Carlisle made his way over to Ren, to give her the same warm greeting and hug he had dispensed on me. I stilled as I took in the beautifully refurbished living room: A mix of modern and antique styling, binding the room into a cohesive unit. Esme truly knew her stuff when it came to these things.

_Except maybe that new stuff over there. Yikes!_

I mouthed a "Wow" while surveying the modern pieces above the fireplace. They looked as if they were striving to be modern reimaginings of something out of Pollock's repertoire, but woefully suffered from delusions of grandeur. Honestly, modern art must have been lost on me because these were oddly reminiscent of a child's flamboyantly splashy finger-painting. Nevertheless, they must have been expensive as Esme had positioned them in the _primo_ spot, the careful perch above the fireplace. I was pretty sure I could ascertain a head of broccoli in one, the Michelin man in the other…and was that a Furby?

_Oh yes, art…_

It wasn't until a deliberate throat clear was made in my direction, that I stopped assessing them, looked down, and noticed the others standing before the mantel. The massive black marble outcropping of the fireplace held four individuals- Esme who was clearly trying to catch my attention, Ren, and a mature couple with tall, slender, angular builds that were politely engaging Ren in conversation. The woman of the pair sharply looked up at my approach, giving me an inquisitive once-over as I did the same to her and her husband. Her dress was a simple champagne colored satin, very elegant, and her hair a muted red. She held the slender stem of her wine glass in exceedingly graceful fingers. Of course, her look was completed by a simple strand of pearls. Her husband only exceeded her height by a few inches, but on closer look, it seemed he was a bit rounder and fuller, rendering him a little less severe looking than his wife. His hair had gone completely white, and his eyes, though grave, had a hint of mirth. He held a lowball glass, ¾ of it filled with amber liquid, most likely scotch on the rocks.

_It really is yuppie central. _

My feelings of insecurity rarely got the best of me, but at this moment, I felt a little lacking in all aspects in their presence. I couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but if I were a painting, I would have felt slightly faded and in need of a touch up.

"Bella!"

I shook my head from my thoughts as I swiveled to face Carlisle and the drink cart aka the bar-on-wheels. He clinked together the ice cubes in the glass with a frown.

"Bella, I'm afraid we're out of gin. But we still have tonic water. Would vodka be alright?"

_How about a straight up shot of tequila?_

"Oh, uh, a vodka tonic is fine. "

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course."

Carlisle obligingly finished up making the vodka tonic, placed a wedge of lime on the rim of my glass, and brought it over, eager to make with the introductions.

"Isabella," he stated importantly with all the charisma of a newly appointed Senator, as he handed my glass to my left hand. "Please meet the Masens."

_You mean the Cleavers?_

Esme readily took over. "This," she gestured to the woman, "is Elizabeth Masen. Like I told you before, we both attended Dartmouth, but we were never introduced until I married your uncle." She gave Elizabeth a conspiratorial tap on the shoulder. "She is also an active member of the DAR in Chicago."

Elizabeth, beaming from Esme's listing of her accomplishments, gave a quiet tinkling of a laugh. "I believe active is too strong a word, Esme." She laid her searching, speckled green eyes on me, and her smile fell into a shy grin.

"Isabella, charmed I'm sure." She extended her hand to my right one and gave it a slight squeeze. Her palm was cool. "We've heard so much about you, I feel as if we've already met. You must indulge me if I happen to know more about you than you would expect." she hummed. I returned her greeting with a slightly nervous chuckle, and bemoaned my lack of charmingly witty response.

_What does she know? Oh God, did Carlisle tell her the bike story, I was eleven for God's sake!_

I made a mental note to politely demand that he remove that anecdote from the arsenal labeled, 'Humiliate Most Beloved Niece'.

Esme and Carlisle, both looking as if Christmas had come five months early, waved their arms towards Elizabeth's male counterpart. "And this, of course," Esme happily informed me, "is Edward Masen Sr. He is the founder and CEO of the marketing conglomerate…."

"Masen-Philips, of course." I finished with fake enthusiasm. I gave a mental cheer at my quick recollection, and I tentatively shook his hand as he grasped mine.

"Bella, it's a pleasure to meet a beautiful young woman entrepreneur such as yourself. If you could spare some time during dinner, I would very much like to hear your experiences in building up your own business." he warmly stated.

_That does it. These people are making it incredibly difficult for me to dislike them._

Obviously embarrassed by Edward Sr.'s seemingly sincere words, I realized the feeling that he seemed to be taking me seriously and the fact that he called me beautiful, did little to lessen my social ineptitude. I stammered stupidly for a minute, managing to only turn one shade of burgundy, before I succeeded in letting out an eloquent response of 'Mmm'.

_How are you this awkward? You work in hospitality for God's sake! You really are a train wreck this week. Maybe silence is your best option. _

Esme and Carlisle simply grinned like a pair of fools, while the Masens began to discuss the whereabouts of their son. Our group moved as a well choreographed unit down to the furniture, and I set myself and Ren down in a cream sofa with an antique scrolled frame. The Masens set themselves in the large sofa opposite us, and Esme and Carlisle occupied the love seat perpendicular to each piece.

"Bella, I think you're about to break it." Ren whispered.

"What?"

I turned towards Ren and she motioned for me to shift my eyes towards the death grip I currently had on my glass. I loosened it and inwardly chastised myself. The issue wasn't that I was nervous; just incredibly mortified over my lack of normal behavior in the past few minutes. Taking a long and lingering sip of my drink, I forced myself to relax, and my blush finally subsided.

_Good, stay that way. _

Elizabeth kept anxiously straining her neck backwards, as if she was hoping to catch sight of someone who would inevitably materialize out the wall connecting to the den.

Finally choosing to sit forward in her seat, rather than throw out her back by continuing her previous actions, she settled with an apologetic frown.

"Really, Esme and Carlisle, I am so sorry about Edward's behavior this evening. I really raised him better than to barricade himself in a room when a guest at someone's house….on the phone, no less."

Carlisle scrunched his forehead and waved his hand dismissively. "Please Elizabeth; you know Edward is just being considerate. He doesn't want to disturb us with his business calls. We both know how incredibly busy he must be, heading the opening of the new branch in Hartford. Your clients must be increasing by the dozens at this point."

Edward Sr., raised his glass, nodding. "Yes Elizabeth, go easy on the boy. I've placed a lot of responsibility on him and you know he delegates most of the work to himself."

I bristled. Of course this Edward had a convenient excuse to avoid round one of socializing. He wasn't thought of as moody or withdrawn, even though he still had yet to make an appearance.

_Meanwhile, I run my own business, which is currently on rocky financial ground, and yet I'm still out here sharing pâté and entertaining the masses with the ever changing shades of red on my face._

I already felt a hint of ill-will towards him.

I raised my eyebrows, and gave Ren a meaningful look and she turned her head towards the floor, biting her lip to hide her smile.

"I'm sure he'll be out in a matter of no time." Esme chirped.

I sat in comfortable silence as the others began to interrogate Ren about Platt. Although I was amused by Edward Sr.'s rapid, quick, fire questioning over her classes and overall intelligence, I couldn't help but be impressed as Ren kept up and matched him flawlessly for each answer. As the elders in the room roared in laughter over an innocent quip she made over her Literature class's 'Works of Shakespeare' curriculum, the door to the den quietly opened. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the shape of who was most probably the Masen's son, as he walked decidedly towards the sitting area.

_Ah, here comes Beaver to join the Cleavers. _

I stretched my torso towards Ren, to avoid an immediate introduction. In doing so, I noticed the frosted glass that she held, resting on her knee. I cocked my eyebrow in distaste.

_What is this? She's sixteen!_

I quickly grabbed it from her hand as she cried out a "Hey!"

Putting it at my eye level, as if that would help me discern the nature of the liquid, I quickly made my concerns known.

"Ren, what's this? This is completely out of the questi…"

"Oh honestly, Bella," Esme quickly interrupted with an incredulous laugh. "Do you really think we gave her alcohol? It's club soda for Pete's sake! Try it for yourself."

I eyed her amused face suspiciously and looked to Ren for verification. She nodded that it fact was club soda. Deciding neither of them was lying, I handed Ren back her drink. Ren smirked superiorly at me, apparently enjoying the fact that I managed to bring unwanted attention to myself with my own actions. I squirmed in discomfort as I felt everyone's eyes on me.

Instead of sinking into the floor as was common in these circumstances, I deflected in my usual fashion. "Oh, well, crazier things have happened. I guess I earn the award for "Over-Protective Sister of the Year." I nervously quipped.

The corny joke earned an eye roll from Ren, as she took a drink from her glass, and appreciative chuckles from the others. A quiet laugh with a huskier tenor rose above the others and quickly caught my attention. I snapped my neck up and, in doing so, made direct eye contact with the one individual who had, previously, not been present in the room.

_Ah, the Masen boy. So we meet at last. _

His eyes were curious, very curious, as they unashamedly appraised my own. He must have inherited the ability to pierce through someone's face with a mere look, from his mother. It was incredibly disconcerting, to say the least. But it wasn't a hostile act, or even a patronizing one. Simply curious.

I assessed the rest of the man that was attached to the inquisitive eyes. Edward was currently leaning onto the back of the couch, where his parent's were seated, and his hands lightly clutched the top of the cushion. His left one was still wielding the Blackberry he had evidently been using to settle his business matters. The white sleeves of his dress shirt were unbuttoned and haphazardly rolled up to his elbows, baring expanses of pale white forearms. He had the top of his shirt unbuttoned and his striped blue tie lay loosened and slack against his chest. He was on the thin side, the leanness of his body accentuated by his height. He had obviously been gifted with a tall stature by his parents. Nothing truly stood out to me about him until I glanced up again at his face.

_Whoa._

He was handsome. Thin, gaunt, haggard…but, eerily attractive.

_Definitely a looker_. Square jaw covered with day old scruff, high, angular cheekbones, the whole bit. He was no tragic, Greek hero, but he probably had a girl or two swooning over him. His dark red hair, the exact shade as his mother's, was a complete mess, though, and fell in disarray above his wide forehead. It gave me the irrational urge to search through it, and try and find the remnants of a comb he might have used to try and brush it flat. The rest of his appearance painted him as a frazzled white-collared career man, but his face betrayed nothing but calm. I finally rested again on his eyes, as they had not deviated one inch from my face.

_Mystified. Mystified eyes._ They were the only piece that confused me, that didn't fit properly into the prepared mold I had set for him. I observed the rest of him indifferently, registering each trait in my head. When I was done, I casually averted my eyes to the painting that hung behind him, to avoid giving him the mistaken impression that my dispassionate observing was unabashed ogling. I stared at the same work hanging that I had 'envied' before.

Unlike my interaction with his parents, I was prepared for Edward and all that he represented.

In essence, it could be said that I was jaded.

Yes, Edward was highly attractive physically, but they all were. All the 'Edwards' I had encountered through similar social circles to Esme and Carlisle's, deployed the same traits and characteristics- handsome, highly educated, well-spoken, successful. They all knew how to appropriately dispense their stores of charm to pull in audiences of approving parental figures and love-struck women. What they didn't showcase was their ability to turn into chauvinistic, elitist blowhards at the drop of a hat. Edward was most likely one member of the brand of men that women invariably sought after - until the aforementioned men invariably bombarded them with their own personal douchebaggery. As much as I initially liked the elder Masens, all these high society types held the same slight air of self-importance, might I say even arrogance, and it was completely off-putting in large doses. There was no doubt in my mind that Edward was a dispenser of that large dose.

I'm not saying I was God's gift to womankind; I actually perceived myself to possess a slightly shrewish personality at times and thought myself to be more towards an average standing looks wise. Not that I would have ever admitted that to anyone. It was not something I placed a large measure of importance on, but I knew I could never stand to be with someone who took my presence as a wavering second to their bloated ego.

Edward most definitely had the potential to be that man.

_Jeez, you need to rein it in. No one is asking you to sleep with him! You just need to be civil, and make a quick exit after dessert._

Yes, civil. Civil was what I did on a daily basis. Civil I could do.

I smiled at the work above his head.

_I really have to ask Esme where she bought that. And what the chances are of getting her money back._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooo oooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo oooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ooooooooooooo

"Potatoes?"

Esme nodded towards me with a delicate casserole dish, attempting to hand it off, as I fruitlessly tried to catch Ren's eye without drawing too much attention. I had previously worked out a small arrangement earlier this week, trying to convince Ren to fake a crippling stomachache in order for us to make an early exit. She had staunchly refused, but I held out in hope, nevertheless. I made contingency plans in event of Ren's failure to follow through with the plan, but an excuse to leave before the appropriate time would hold more credibility if it came from her. Esme was most definitely skeptical when it came to me.

I grimaced at Ren as she deliberately avoided me, and looked up to see that Edward was calmly staring again.

_Ahh, the Fish-eyed Boy Wonder makes another appearance. _

Meeting Edward… It had probably been the most unanticipated anticlimax of the evening.

Honestly, the way he had been built up in my mind by Esme, Carlisle, the Masens, and even me, I had to admit, made me think the dinner wine was once water that he miraculously transformed through divine blessing.

What they thought to be great and accomplished about Edward was just window dressing and it was clear that he was a mere human. And a slightly creepy one, at that.

"_Isabella, meet my son, Edward Masen."_ _Elizbeth Masen had drawled in the smuggest tone that had ever graced my ears. There was no doubt that she lived and breathed off the essence that was the blindingly favorable perception of her son._

_The old adage of pride being the downfall of every man echoed in the back of my mind as I leveled my gaze once again. _

"_Hello." I forced out in a neutral tone. See, I could be civil; poisonous bias notwithstanding._

_Edward continued with his zombie like trance, his eyes peeled wide open and memorizing every curve and divot of my face. Either that or the raised surface embroidery of back of the couch I sat on. The silence drew out between us and I almost opened my mouth again, to reintroduce myself if he hadn't already heard me. _

"_Edward…" Elizabeth urged on quietly, anxiety creeping onto her features. Edward Sr. remained blissfully unaware of his son's meltdown and he reached for another handful of cashews that were laid out on the side table. _

_Edward first turned his head in confusion at the sound of his mother's voice, breaking away from the trance, and then swiveled back towards me. Shaking his head lightly in slight embarrassment, he quirked the left side of his mouth into a half-smile and finally spoke. _

"_I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Isabella." he richly rolled out in a surprisingly pleasant tone of voice. I had expected it to be slightly nasal or even a rough bark that those in positions of authority usually held. Not the downplayed, subtle, lilting tone that I was now privy to. But like I had said before, 'well-spoken' was something that barely made an impression on me anymore. At least not really. Okay, maybe it did. _

_The formality of his greeting took me by surprise. _

"_Erm, you too." I gave back hesitantly, and then scratched an unceasing itch on my knee that had been created by the hem of Alice's dress. . _

_I glanced at Esme and Carlisle, just in time to see their faces glance hopefully between the two of us, violently rotating their necks at a whiplash worthy rate. I caught them as they turned my way and gave them a blank look. I was slightly confused over what they were expecting to happen, but got a full glimpse of Esme's face crumbling in disappointment as she took in my apathy. Carlisle merely leaned back into his seat with a light shrug as Esme stood in obvious resignation. _

"_Well, I need to get the dishes on the table. Isabella, would you help me carry them from the sideboard?"_

_I gladly stood, leaving the Masens, Carlisle, and Ren to further pour their misguided hero worship onto Edward the Not-So-Magnificent, and trailed into the spacious kitchen. _

_As I entered, I was met with an irked Esme. _

_Maybe I should have stayed behind with the rest of them. But now it was too late._

_For the next ten minutes I was treated to a lecture on how to properly respond when graciously addressed by a guest. As if I was the one who had made the entire situation uncomfortable – said guest apparently having a mild aneurysm when I had given him an unassuming, undoubtedly human, 'Hello'. I told Esme the same and she managed to make me feel even more like a child when calling my accusation immature and deeply misguided. She huffed when I told her I was capable of discerning my own behavior and when it was deemed unacceptable, leaving her to feel foolish for chastising her grown niece. We left the argument in silence, agreeing to disagree on this count, not wanting to overstep each other's boundaries and cause some real trouble. Retreating to the dining room with the lemon chicken breast and a furtive look behind me to ensure that Esme wasn't throwing metaphorical or literal daggers at my back, I gave myself a few minutes of peace in the anticipatory silence that shrouded the empty room. Breathing deeply, I seated myself as I heard voices and strains of contrived laughter growing louder and entering the room…._

And now he was blatantly staring again, no scruples whatsoever. He answered questions asked by the others with succinct, polite responses out of courtesy, but his eyes never swerved.

I decided to counter it with raised eyebrows and an expression of questioning annoyance and his lips lifted in the obnoxious smirk once again. An asymmetrical testimony to my ever growing irritation at this night and its bizarre encounters.

An awed whisper came from my left.

"I think he's intrigued, Bella. Quick, balance a spoon on your nose and see if he applauds." Ren was giving a surreptitious glance over to my own personal audience and she seemed highly excited for the next turn of events on the high octane adventure that was my unremarkable life.

_I wonder what he'll do next. Oh, it's a miracle, he blinked! Eye lubrication, ladies and gentlemen, the purest form of high society entertainment. _

"He's not exactly subtle. I'm not sure what I did to deserve the bipolar, death stare."

"Bipolar?"

"He was smiling just a second ago." Edward's smirk went to a full fledged, Cheshire-Cat worthy grin as he noticed the exchange of words between Ren and me, in addition to our hesitant stares, and decided to shift his eyes back to the china plate upon which he was shoveling large helpings of the aforementioned potatoes.

_Oookay…._

I abruptly shifted towards Ren. "What the hell?" I whispered peevishly, being certain that my voice wasn't carrying over the buzzing drone of dinner conversation. "You've been ignoring me. What happened to Operation: I Have Acute Stomach Cramps and Need to Leave Pronto?"

Ren tiredly pushed back into her own seat with a groan, while answering something about it being embarrassing to announce that to full room of people. She threw in the word juvenile in reference to my actions and I gave her an incredulous sneer.

_A teenager calling me juvenile. That's ironic. Alice, where the hell are you?_

I reached slightly downwards to fumble slightly through my purse and grasp my cell phone, just to check the tiny screen to make sure there had been no missed calls. I glanced at the time and sighed when I noticed the lack of sound or blinking indicating a missed call. It was already half past eight. On my way up from my maneuvering, conversation decided to raise its ugly head and catch me square in its teeth.

"Isabella, if you would be so kind, I would be interested in learning more about your business. How did you get started on your own? With the inn I mean? It must have been a daunting endeavor." Edward Sr.'s genuinely inquisitive, incisive stare was mirrored by three others, as if I was being sized up for butchering. I was starting to wonder if Edward Sr. was either truly impressed or simply placing me side by side with his son for a comparison. It was an annoying tendency that I felt parents of this status had in common.

And now I had to play into it.

_Gah, this is what I get for my scheming. _

Straightening my head and lightly blowing the hair that had inevitably fallen in front my face, I gave a small smile and decided to relay the abridged version of my convoluted road to success.

"Basically, I had just graduated from Swarthmore with a degree in economics and was about to start a financial analyst job in Pheonix. I found the property on my way to visit family in the Northeast. I guess you could say it stirred some entrepreneurial compulsion within me and I decided that working for myself would be preferable to cramping myself into a 5x5 cubicle every morning." The comment gained some appreciative laughter." No, really it was a decision that took much more thought and life altering decision-making than I'm implying."

Edward Sr. continued on with a confused politeness. "That is all well, Bella. But I'm curious as to your start-up resource. It must have been quite a difficulty acquiring those, on your own no less!" he sputtered.

_How would he even know that? He was probably born with a wad of Benjamins in one hand and a cigar in the other. _

I was growing steadily more suspicious of his strange line of questioning and clipped out my response.

"I had a partner in this venture. With our combined resources we were able to establish ourselves, not without obstacles, of course."

"A partner? In laymen's terms, a co-owner?"

"Well, yes. As I'm assuming Philips is the partner to your Masen?"

A peal of indulgent laughter came from Edward Sr., and the rest followed uneasily, noticing the elevating tension as implied by my stony, unsmiling expression.

"Ah, Philips is actually a figurehead. The actual man disassociated with the company years ago, after my father's death. In reality, I inherited a dying shipping financial company and reordered it into what it is today. I guess you could say my Rolodex had a makeover." He winked at me with a patronizing smile, as if placing the restructuring of his business into beautification terms would help me understand better.

_Um, what happened to the charming man in the other room? The one who didn't make me want to fork his hand?_

"Now I have my boy Edward helping me run the empire. Keeping it in the family, I must say, increases efficiency, greases the wheels, so to speak." He slapped Edward lightly on the back and started towards the wine decanter to pour himself another glass. Edward's cheeks slightly reddened before he coughed up some water that had gone down the wrong way and cleared his throat.

"Sir, you should probably forgo that next glass…." Edward supplied.

_Sir? What kind of fucked up family is this? _

"Nonsense, Edward, I haven't felt this healthy in years. Three to be exact." He chortled darkly. Another round of uncomfortable laughter repeated and now more than ever I wanted to hightail it to my truck. That or bulldoze over Edward Sr. with a rant that would make him squirm. I mean, my God, could he belittle me even more than he already had?

"Now, uh, getting back to you Isabella." Edward veered the conversation back towards me in his smooth, vocal perfection.

_Vocal perfection? What the hell?_

"I think it's incredibly admirable – the way you established your own personal goals and made it a reality. Risks make it all worthwhile. You obviously reaped the rewards…."

"Yes, but it was unnecessarily risky and not an action demonstrating great business sense." Edward Sr. interrupted with a clear reprimand in his voice. He was getting increasingly heated with every word in my defense. Edward countered his words with a hard, aggressive stare. It was a strange contradiction to his otherwise placid stance. "But Edward is correct, you were very lucky. You and your partner must get satisfactory business from the town of…I'm sorry I seemed to have forgotten the name."

"North Meadow." I chewed out sourly. I could not believe what I was hearing.

_Alright Daddy Warbucks, you want to throw down? The fucking gloves are coming off!_

Just as I was about to throw down my napkin and present Edward Sr. with some choice adjectives of my own, Carlisle intervened in our not so subtle battle of wits.

"I wouldn't use the word lucky, Ed." He said jovially with an underlying hint of sharpness. "Luck implies lack of hard work and I would say Bella's been through the ringer. She even worked herself through an MBA. A self-made woman. I guess for those of us over the hill, we tend to have short term memory loss when we get past our own hard times. I know how much more complacent I'm getting, wouldn't you agree, Ed?" He leaned back and swirled the contents of his glass.

"Yes, I suppose that's true." Edward Sr. drawled out disinterestedly and went back to eyeing me sharply.

Esme, looking close to threatening the lot of us with a Crate & Barrel serving spoon to force us to behave, instead brought up a less singe-worthy topic.

"So, speaking of partners, how is Alice? The last time I saw her she whipped up a shrimp and crab paella that held my taste buds captive for days. Amazing really, the most interesting thing I've ever tasted."

"Who is Alice?" Elizabeth questioned with look of sheer intrigue. Either she was a big foodie and wanted to hire a chef for her next charity gala or she was trying to inject some life into the conversation, which had obviously crashed and burned.

_Ah, blessed are the wives for they are the convenient peace-makers. I think that's written in the Bible somewhere. _

"Alice is a very good friend of mine and the co-owner of The Hollow. Someone I would consider _family_." I added pointedly. "She is also a trained chef and works accordingly for the inn. We're incredibly _lucky_ to have her." Edward Sr. did not note my emphasis on the word lucky, but Edward flashed me a brilliant smile that dazed me for a few seconds. I regained my nerve and quickly glanced away.

"Yes." Esme nodded enthusiastically. "Very highly qualified. She trained under Amun Basman in New York."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "Not Chef Basman of _Crème de la Crème_?"

_The one and only._

"He's one of the most sought after chefs and restaurateurs in Manhattan, not to mention the rest of the country and Europe besides." she continued in a fluttering voice.

_As if we didn't know._

"He just opened his new restaurant in Chicago." Elizabeth rapidly turned to me with a shrewd expression. "What did you say Alice's surname was?"

_Oh, here it comes. _

"I didn't, actually. It's Brandon."

Elizabeth's entire face lit up, as I had expected. She recognized the name.

"Brandon!" She excitedly exclaimed. "Well, why didn't you say so before? I am somewhat acquainted with Carol and Brian, are they the same Brandon's you're speaking of? I think they reside in Maine now, if I'm correct."

I nodded robotically.

"Well, that is incredible. Serendipitous almost. I must admit I know next to nothing about Alice or her sister, but it is quite enchanting to hear she is an impeccably trained chef."

She kept fawning over Alice, while her husband seemed dumbstruck over her passionate outburst, and Edward smiled secretively into his water glass. Esme brimmed with contentment while Carlisle merely sidled a glance at me and disguised a chortle into his napkin as he took in my deadpan expression.

"Well, I think dessert has been plated in the kitchen and while I'm no Alice, I'd like to think she would approve." Esme jokingly stated as she swiped down the front of her dress and moved to the kitchen entrance, a bit lighter than she had seemed coming in.

I flopped back in my chair, shell-shocked, and ignored the anxious looks Ren was shooting me every couple of seconds.

_It's been a great night, folks. Tune in next week to get an even further look into my humiliation. _

While the topic of discussion had wandered off me, I was more than done. I had never been so…felt so…ugh. I had just had my livelihood and career, examined in minute detail, insulted, and then defended to the point of condescension. I could have handled it without Carlisle being the typical chivalrous white knight and Esme attributing all of mine and Alice's success to the fact that Alice worked with a world famous chef; one whom she ultimately gave the middle finger to by quitting and leaving to pursue our collective dream. But now I felt defenseless and treated as such and on top of it all…the less douche-worthy Edward was staring incessantly once again!

_What the hell are you looking at!?_

I wanted to scream.

"_You know I'm such a fool for you.  
You got me wrapped around your finger, ah, ha, ha.  
Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to…"_

The occupants of the table looked on in puzzlement as The Cranberries ring tone floated invitingly from my Blackberry that was set on the table, and I hurriedly moved to take the call after my initial shock of hearing it.

Finally. Alice.

I let out an apologetic smile to the others, though I was not in the least bit sorry, and breathed a relieved 'Alice' into the speaker.

"This is your conveniently timed phone call to inform you of a fabricated story involving a terrible accident, or a conflict with difficult customers and/or Laurent at The Hollow. Take your pick. And while I might be saving you from the so-called monotony of this dinner, I'm still not totally convinced it was bad enough that I had to bail you out." she stated with slight disdain.

_Oh Alice, my light, my savior, you have no idea. _

Feigning a look of shock and ignoring her dry words, I sputtered frantically into the phone. "Oh no, Alice? Are you alright? Hospital? Do you need a ride home?" Esme had entered the room at this point with a hotly disapproving glare in my direction, at my use of a cell phone at the table.

Shifting the device from my ear, I managed to mouth out, "Alice. Car Accident."

Everyone's face, including Esme's, shifted to expressions of horror and for a minute I had the decency to feel guilty over my pretense.

But not guilty enough.

Alice bit back at my use of her in my story. "Okay, so now that my part in this charade is done, I honestly hope you get struck down by lightning for your vicious lies and for the fact you made me an accomplice." She hung up with a beep. I was met with dead silence as I consoled and agreed to pick up a supposedly tearful Alice.

One of the more desperate things I'd ever done in my life.

"Bella, what on earth…" Esme questioned.

I composed my face into the best panic driven mask I could manage and swiftly stood, bringing Ren up by her shoulder. Ren looked on with raised eyebrows as I forced out my excuse.

"Alice…car accident…nothing's broken, but she needs a ride from the hospital. Her car is completely totaled." I rushed out, breaking my voice in the exact right spot.

Carlisle vigorously nodded and stood, indicating he wanted to accompany us. Elizabeth gave words of condolence and Edward made to stand, offering any assistance he could give.

_Uh, no thanks, really. _

"But dessert…" Esme weakly held up the caramel coated angel food cake she had especially made for dessert. I froze. The shame was instantaneous and crippling.

_She remembered. _

_I had been five when she had first made it for me. She had been visiting in Phoenix on one of her 'spontaneous' check up trips to the Southwest. Renee liked spontaneity and Esme knew it. _

_She had some Bella-specific intuition, knowing before I took my first bite that the swirl of caramel, banana, and fluffy cake would become my favorite. And it had. _

She had made it for tonight. And here I was, now, fucking lying and running like a scared child because I couldn't get along with anyone in the schoolyard.

It was too late now. The asinine story I concocted had already gained ground and the others sympathy.

Swallowing thickly I spurned Carlisle's advances with genuine reassurance that both Alice and I would be fine and I just needed to get her home as quickly as possible. After several attempts, he reluctantly agreed not to accompany us and I left the room, Esme, Edward, and Elizabeth apprehensively looking on. I was pretty sure Edward Sr. was still stuffing chicken down his pompous little gullet, and I made no move to acknowledge him as I left. The only thing audible was the clicking of Ren's shoes as my eyes blurred angrily with tears. The pounding in my head had reached epic proportions, blocking out my own memory of retrieving my coat and ambling out the door and towards the truck.

Ren cried out for me to stop a few times, whatever else she was saying garbled and drowned out by my own hostility. And all-consuming guilt.

I leaned my head against the door, waiting for the throbbing to subside and for my thoughts to once again form coherently.

The combined coolness of the metal and the night air calmed me slightly, but there was no excuse for me doing that to Esme. Not tonight, at least.

_She made the goddamn cake!_

I banged my head solidly against the door once, berating myself.

"Bella…," I felt Ren's hand slowly graze my shoulder.

I didn't answer.

"Alice wasn't really in a car accident was she?"

I continued my silence. Removing myself from the door, I swiftly opened it and barreled into the cab. Ren took her cue and scrambled to the other side, closing her door before I started the ignition.

We didn't speak until the truck started gliding on the meandering stretch of highway that was unlit in the darkness. The sounds of tires rumbling and the engine hacking eventually gave way to a much louder, less familiar one.

It was a cross between a massive cannon backfiring and a T-Rex wheezing. Impossible, yes, but a sound that nonetheless signaled the beginning of the end for my truck.

"Holy shit." Scared as hell that we would come to a complete standstill in the middle of a darkened, hazardous curve of road, I quickly swerved and pulled off to the side, my truck slanting towards the metal rail that separated us from the ominous wilderness.

_Damn it. Not again. _

I looked immediately towards Ren, noting her white knuckles as they clutched the sides of her seat and chastising myself even further for putting her in danger with this piece of junk.

_You held out as long as you could, but I'm trading you into that Cash for Clunkers program. What a freaking fantastic night it's been. _

I collected myself. "Alright, alright." I ran my hands over my face and hair and cupped them over my mouth. "First thing, Ren, are you okay?"

She nodded blankly. Then slowly undid her seatbelt.

"Okay, okay. Nothing we can't fix….oh god."

Staring out the windshield it was highly apparent that copious amounts of white smoke were billowing out from underneath the hood, no doubt the source being the engine. This was really not good. I didn't care if it was just smoke, we needed to get the hell out of there.

"Ren, out of the car." I directed hastily, unclipping my own seatbelt and sliding over the bench-seat to follow her out of the passenger door.

The chilly night breeze blew the acrid smoke in our direction and we both coughed as we shifted towards the back of the truck. I threw open my purse and brought out my phone, holding it up for a sign of signal. Two bars on the screen wavered, and then succumbed to zero. It was the damn trees blocking it out. That left little hope for wi-fi.

"Bella, my phone's not getting any signal." Ren flipped hers open to show me and I gave a frustrated cry as I plunked myself down on the rail.

I took stock of our options as Ren stared at the headlights breaking through the darkness and whizzing past us at dizzying speeds. There was no way to contact Triple A, or remotely anyone with the capability to help us. I couldn't even contact someone through e-mail to pick us up. We could walk, but we had not passed any service stations since about 10 miles back and it would take a good part of the night to admit defeat and crawl back to Esme's. I could wait and see if a cop would pass this way and flag him down, but how long would that even take? Hours? And what happened if someone who was not as good intentioned stopped first? My throat closed at the possibility.

_Why do I always get us into these messes? Alright, just calm. _

It was just the dark, causing me to exaggerate scenarios. Pulling myself out of panic mode and standing once again, I told Ren to stick to the far side of the truck.

"We're on a curve, and people are definitely not slowing down. I want you as far away as possible."

Ren obeyed but gave me an obnoxiously aggressive glare.

_What now?_

"Is there something you want to say, Ren?" I grounded out wearily. I was growing tired of her passive aggressive looks and really needed her cooperation. I knew I was responsible, but I'd taken all I could in the past few hours.

'Why did you do that?" She crossed her arms and cocked her head in accusation. "We could have stayed for another half hour, without all the lying. Now look what happened!"

My anger threatened to boil over at her words, and I felt myself growing defensive. I most definitely did not have to explain myself to her. Was she blind? Was she not a witness to my abject humiliation that occurred over dinner? And the truck dying was not directly my fault. That probably would've happened no matter when we had left.

"You know what," I backed away from her and threw up my arms. "I'm not going to give a reason for every one of my actions, that's not something I have to do for you. You are supposed to listen to me, and when I want to leave, we leave!" I yelled to her.

I never yelled.

At least not at her.

She seemed stunned, as if my words had somewhat tasered her into submission.

Swallowing and keeping my heavy breathing in check, I controlled my temper, as Ren looked on wide eyed. "You weren't exactly the one being ambushed in there. Maybe it's stupid and, I don't know, prideful, but I'm not going to sit there and take it when someone insults me that openly. That wasn't fair to me…." My words faltered and I felt another wave of nausea over what happened.

_I should have stayed for Ren and Esme. I could have handled it. I was so selfish. _

"And if you think I don't feel guilty…."

Ren uncomfortably looked down towards her shoes. "Bella, that guy was unbelievable. There was no way you deserved the things he said to you. I wanted to say something but…."

I gave a small, rueful smile at her claim and just shook my head as she tried to continue.

"No, it wasn't your fight. It's not your job to say something; it would've made things worse." I exhaled. "Ren, the real reason I'm upset is not because he spewed all that crap out and made me feel like I had to justify myself." _Well, that made up a good portion._ "I was upset because he did it in front of you and Carlisle and Esme, thinking he had some sort of right to mow me down like that in front my family. And his. Just to feel like a big man. And while I can handle that he did that to me, I couldn't handle the idea that he probably thought he had free license to do that to you as well, given the chance. I don't ever want someone speaking that way to you. You never have to justify yourself to anyone who tries to make you feel inferior, do you understand?" The words echoed back to memories of Renee, when she assured me that whatever insecurities I was feeling were reflected tenfold by those who took advantage of them.

After tonight, I wasn't so sure. Maybe I was just straight out failing everyone.

Shaking my head and coming back to the present, I saw Ren give a small smile and nod, and she placed her head in her hands. _Too much excitement for one night_, I guessed.

We still had issues though, getting home being one of them. Another fifteen minutes passed. As I pondered our options again and pulled out my phone to give it one last shake for a signal, harsh yellow light flooded the screen and my head snapped up. A car had pulled over and was steadily making its way towards us, carefully avoiding scraping the guardrail.

Ren hopped up and I told her to stay back as I cautiously approached the vehicle, heart hammering. My first impression that it was not a cop car gave way to the desperate hope that it was somehow a Good Samaritan instead. It came to a halt about five feet from me and idled as the driver parked it. I couldn't see much with the glare of the lights, and shielded my eyes with my hand. But I noticed when the driver side door suddenly opened and a man swiftly exited, walking briskly towards us.

As he stepped closer, he became impossible to not recognize.

_Oh God, this is just twisted. Like Rod Serling, Twilight zone twisted. _

Edward in all his suited glory. The man I had just left in a blaze of faux anxiety was now standing before me, confusion over our predicament marking his features.

We stared at each other dumbly for a moment.

"Isabella, is that you?" he asked hesitantly. I didn't even answer, completely caught unaware by his sugar and molasses voice. And of course the fact that he was now standing in front of me.

He glanced past me towards the truck, his eyes widening when he took in the bilious clouds of smoke, now slowly dissipating. Registering Ren standing behind me, and my slightly tear stained face; he automatically tensed and opened his mouth.

"What happened? Are you both okay? When I saw the truck stranded I thought…," he trailed off as he gestured towards it. My eyebrows knit in confusion.

"How did you know I drive a truck? This truck specifically?" I interrupted.

_Of course that's your first question. Not 'Can I get a ride home because it's getting late and I don't want to be road kill before I hit 30.' _

Edward's gaze scrunched and then dropped. Slightly embarrassed he scratched the back of his neck. "I actually saw you both pull up – at Carlisle and Esme's – through the window in the den. When I saw it on the side of the road, driving up, I suspected it might be you. I didn't actually know. Just luck I guess. "

I was about to ask what kind of luck he thought that was, when he brushed uneasily past me to, undoubtedly, take a look under the hood. It was what all men did, even if they didn't have the slightest clue about engines. No to mention ancient truck engines warped with time.

Gingerly touching the hood to pull it up, he retracted his hand with a hiss. It must have been fairly hot, even with the engine not running, and he must have been fairly stupid to think he could touch it without any protection.

_Men._

"Um, Edward, right?" He looked up eagerly, still nursing his hand. "I think you should probably avoid touching it, unless you want third degree steam burns. I could really do without a lawsuit right now." He chuckled self-consciously and gave me a small smile, his eyes returning to wander over my face and dropping again.

_Oh, the innocent man-boy act only works on jail-bait, bub. I've got your number. _

Another recklessly fast car swerved past us, narrowly missing me, and I jumped a full foot towards Ren.

Edward's face sobered and he marched his way around the passenger side, trying not to flip over the rail. "Okay, if you both don't mind, we should probably get into my car."

_No argument here. _

Ren and I scrambled towards the shiny, silver car.

_So his was the Volvo_?

The realization gnawed at me slightly and I batted it away.

I slid into the passenger seat as Ren made her way into the back, and Edward somehow maneuvered into the driver's seat without getting hit on the opposite side.

The interior was spotless. No new car smell, but a light citrus odor. And now a hint of smokiness given that we had all been gathered by my truck.

Now all assembled in the car, we waited awkwardly for the other to speak.

"So I -."

"There's a -."

We spoke simultaneously and abruptly stalled. I gestured for him to continue and his face suddenly contorted into seriousness.

"What are you going to do about your friend, um, Alice?" he uneasily inquired.

_Oh shit. Of all the things for him to ask. I should've known this would come back and bite me in the ass. Goddamn karma. _

"She uh…." I looked towards Ren and she mirrored the tentative glance I gave her. "She texted me about a mile from Carlisle and Esme's. Some friends of ours managed to reach the hospital first, so they're taking her home." Edward raised his eyebrows slightly in interest and I continued blurting out the rest of my blatant falsehood. "We drove on though, because I wanted to check on her as soon as I got back, so we just…."

He nodded diffidently and rested his hands on the steering wheel.

_Nice save. I'm pretty sure he didn't buy it. _

I didn't care though. Edward was the last person I had to explain myself to.

He spoke a little after I finished rambling. "I think I should probably wait here with you until the towing company or Triple A gets here." He paused as I looked away and pursed my lips. "You did call someone, didn't you?"

I held up my phone with a scoff. "We would have if we could have. I think we've managed to hit the only dead zone in all of Connecticut."

"So you were just going to stay out here all night?" he asked incredulously.

My defensive nature coming to the forefront at his comment, I gave him a look of my own.

"No, we're not exactly the weak and helpless type. We were either going to walk until we got signal. Or flag down a police car. The interstate's teeming with them."

Ren rustled in the back. "We were?"

Glancing at her through the rearview mirror, I silently conveyed a 'shut your mouth' to her and she smirked knowingly.

"Yes, we were."

Edward, pretending to be ignorant of the exchange, shrugged his shoulders and moved to switch gears.

"Oh well. Hopefully, I can save you the trouble. I really have to insist that I get you home safely."

_Wait, wait, wait._

I moved to grab his arm and he froze at the contact. Beneath his sports jacket, I could feel the defined solidity of his arm. Not as lanky as I had first thought. He looked down at my grip and then inquiringly at me. I released him, feeling foolish. I hardly knew the guy and

I just violated his arm. It didn't matter if he was a closet douche-bag in training.

"You're really offering to drive us home?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Of course." He stated, taken aback by my question. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

_The son of a jackass._ Oh, I was definitely bitter over dinner.

"Unless of course," he continued slowly, "you'd rather wait here for a cop. Or a cell signal."

_Smug bastard. I knew the shy, considerate thing was an act. _

"No, I just mean my truck…." I vaguely pointed through the windshield, disguising my loathing.

"I'm sure you can call someone to pick it up for you in the morning."

"Yeah, Bella." Ren added. "Rose and Em will do it."

I fell back against the seat with a frustrated sigh.

_What to do? What to do? I don't exactly want to be indebted to, let alone spend another half hour with the __arrogant - silver spoon teething - trust fund having - Wall St. clone over here__, but we can't stay out here all night. Alright, let's approach this in a logical manner: I am in charge of Ren, therefore I do what's best for her. What's best for Ren? Not being out in the road in the middle of the night. Right, I'm swallowing my pride and doing this for Ren. _

I looked back at her from behind the headrest, cocking my eyebrow in question.

"I'm all for it." Ren piped from the back.

I turned my head towards Edward. "Where were you heading before you pulled over?"

"I was just driving back to my apartment in New York. There's only so long I can live off the Hilton accommodations the company provides."

"New York?" _It's a little late for a road trip to New York. Unless, it's business. Or a booty call. _

"Uh, yeah. I own an apartment down there; I'm just up here for business."

'_He's just a city boy…'_

"No, that's fine, but the exit to New York is three exits before North meadow. And isn't it like another two hours, from there?"

He breathed deeply, his long fingers gripping the wheel. He was undoubtedly growing a little agitated with my indecisiveness, but I needed to point out that I was under no obligation to go with him, and he was under none to take me either. As long as that was clear, there would no 'eye for an eye' or compensational relationship established. He would be doing it and I would have nothing to do with his decision.

"I'm pretty sure I'm capable of finding my way back." he defended with a hint of amusement.

"I never said you weren't…it's more difficult in the dark."

"I'll manage."

"You don't know where I live." I forced out in a final attempt, to give him the opportunity to back out like the arrogant ass I knew him to be.

"Luckily, you do." he cheerfully replied back.

Rolling my eyes in defeat, I consented with a flourish of my hand. "Then, by all means…."

He smirked and pulled out, leaving my poor truck to wallow in the interstate shadows.

We continued north and I issued a fair warning.

"If it turns out you're a psycho and you go all Buffalo Bill on us, I'll be forced to regret this decision and kick your ass."

Edward snorted and looked out at me from the corner of his eye. The look he gave me could only be described as skeptical in reply to my claim that I could kick his ass.

"Uh, Buffalo Bill…?"

_Ah, we have ourselves a pop-culture deficient. _

Ren sniggered in the back as I gave him a dubious stare and explanation in reply.

"Buffalo Bill? Silence of the Lambs? Captures unsuspecting, goodhearted womenfolk and forces them down into a pit of despair where he harasses them with a water hose and an annoying yippy, lapdog. Oh and then kills them... 'It puts the lotion in the basket, or it gets the hose'? Anything coming to mind?"

Edward let a musical chuckle loose. It really was, the inflection rising and ebbing like an ocean tide.

_Well that was poetic. Maybe Emmett's not the only romantic sap. _

"Not really, but no worries. I had the pit of despair in my basement filled in with cement about two weeks ago. Making way for a new pool table. Plus, I think that would be a major point of contention if I were ever to visit Esme and Carlisle again. "

I turned to him with searching eyes, noting a large inconsistency with his current attitude and my first perception of him. This was a different, more at ease Edward. The stiff awkwardness that plagued him through dinner had disappeared, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was in part due to the painfully obvious presence of his father.

Despite the fact that I inwardly detested him, I managed to crack a begrudging smile at his reply. I faced the darkened window and allowed the soothing rhythm of his compact, automatic car against the road, to wash over me. This was what a car should feel like. Relaxed. Unburdened. Dark,dark…dark.

I jolted myself into consciousness, as I felt my head grow heavy. The inner-alarm voice screeched incessantly in my head.

_Never fall asleep in a strange man's car. No matter how smooth his ride and voice are!_

I automatically sat up straight, to avoid any possibly comfortable position and clenched my hands in my lap. Out of my peripheral vision I could see Edward giving me subtle glimpses, his eyes alternating with the road, rearview mirror, and myself. I hastily glanced back at Ren, but she was staring out the window, oblivious to any mal-intention of his. I chose to chalk his shady eye movement up to a nervous tick.

_Bella, how dangerous could he be? He's a daddy's boy with a Volvo and a tie…but he's also tall…very tall…and possibly stronger than we estimated…and there are many things you can do with a tie. _

_Jeez, just shut up…all the serial killer talk is making you paranoid. _

But I kept my eyelids firmly planted open and initiated conversation. After giving him precise, idiot-proof directions, I found I had nothing else to talk with him about and silence grew between us again. I met his next roundabout glimpse with an unwelcome glare, and he ceased and desisted at that. But then he initiated an even more annoying behavior.

He started humming.

Discordant tunes and unfamiliar melodies, at first. I huffed and shifted in my seat, trying to convey my lack of appreciation for his musical prowess, but he didn't seem to notice.

Or he had, and was carrying on anyway because this was his car and we were merely hitchhiking it past his destination.

"But I'm in so deep…." The words suddenly materialized in his sultry voice, lacking pitch but incredibly alluring, nonetheless.

I lolled my head on the headrest in his direction and narrowed my eyes.

He hummed a few strains. "Such a fool for you…."

_I can't believe he's actually unleashing this on us_

"- wrapped around your finger, ah ha ha...let it linger…do have to…hmm...have to let it linger." He kept his face steadfastly focused on the road at this point. For the first time all night.

I wasn't fooled. The ass was most definitely attempting to get under my skin.

"Wow, you managed to butcher the whole chorus. That's a first."

He chuckled brightly again at my comment as he took the exit for North Meadow. This was most definitely not the 'pull the stick from my ass and knock me out" Edward I had met at dinner.

"It's not my fault; it got stuck in my head. That's an interesting choice for a ringtone, by the way. You know, I never really got the appeal of the Cranberries." And as if to emphasize his point, he started humming it again.

"You _would_ think a classic 90's song is horrible. What's on your iPod – some white frat boy banging out trendy, pop-influenced rap about how he loves college?"

Ren, hearing every word, chose to add. "I wonder if I will ever love college enough to sing homage to it." We both chuckled softly.

Edward didn't comment although his smile faltered minutely. I presumed he wasn't of the "take what he dishes out" variety.

We continued in mutual silent mocking towards Pinehurst, and into the town's outer limits.

I began to inwardly dread the fact that he was moments away from laying his uppity society eyes on my town and passing his unsolicited, prejudiced judgment on it. If he used the words _small _or _quaint_ in his patronizing tone, he would definitely have a slap coming his way.

He was driving on towards the center of the town, though I said dropping us at The Hollow would be sufficient and we could make our way home from there. As we passed, Edward scrutinized the building and the drive leading up to it with mild curiosity, but insisted on accompanying us all the way to the well lit town square. I'm not sure how he knew there even was one; he was probably referencing some stereotypical, preconceived notion of a Hawthornian small town and its geographical layout. Not that he was completely wrong about the town square, though.

We did have one. With a giant gazebo and everything.

He came to a halt at the one traffic light our small town had instituted after a traumatizing fender bender last year, in which there was total of $20 in damages. It was quite the scandal. As we waited, I caught sight of the semi lighted interior of Em's Diner and immediately formed an escape plan.

"Edward, if you could just pull over to the right." I gestured towards the front of the diner and, puzzled, he actually listened and veered the car towards the curb.

Ren noticed Emmett's silhouette stacking his chairs inside as well. "Oh hey Bella. Em's still here. Did you want to get coffee?" She bobbed her curly, Shirley temple head to the front eagerly as she asked.

"Yeah, why don't you run inside and stop him from leaving before he can refuse to put on another pot. Hurry."

She gasped. "He would never." Turning to Edward she gave sincere thanks. "Thanks for the ride, Edward. I'm pretty sure you saved us from flagging down an escaped prisoner with a chainsaw." With that she bounded out of the car and up the steps to Em's, leaving me stricken as she had not waited for me to exit as well.

Now we were alone. Painfully, awkwardly alone.

"Your sister," he pointed to Ren through the window, as she hugged the bulky shadow of Emmett. "She's great. I know Platt's a breeding ground for the next generation of cast members on _The Apprentice_, but I hope it's treating her well."

I raised my eyebrow half in surprise over his knowledge of Platt, and half over his pop culture reference. I dismissed his insincere well-wishing for Ren. "How do you know about Platt?"

He leaned back in his seat with a half smile. "I went there. For high school."

_This was unexpected. _

"You did?" I asked. He nodded

"But I thought…Chicago."

"Nope." he interrupted casually. "I was sent here for boarding school, right before Platt turned into co-ed prep school and got rid of the dormitories. I hear it's made a turn for the better. Before the change, it was…an experience." He turned to me with mirthful eyes. "I used to escape to Carlisle's on weekends. They were gracious enough to allow me to stay over." He chuckled ironically. "I…before at the house…I recognized you." he admitted somewhat sheepishly. He looked hesitantly towards me as if assessing my reaction.

_Well, yeah…._

"Um, I recognized you, too. I'm pretty sure Esme could map out your life's story and compile it into an unofficial biography with the information she's given me." I shrugged.

He seemed anxious, as if my reaction was incorrect. As if his words were purposely misleading and he was hesitant to elaborate.

But he eventually did.

"No, I meant…god, this is so…." His hands took a detour through his hair, before resting on his thighs. _My, what impressive thighs…_ _Oh Bella, don't look there. And you actually have the audacity to wonder why your life is a flaming ball of awkward._ "The room I used to stay in, there were a couple of things on the dresser that were never moved. They kind of just, were…the same exact position every single time." He shook his head. "There was a photo of you…a little you. You had some teeth missing. And there were a couple more, but the last one I saw was this one of you…at the ocean? You looked a lot older and different, obviously. You had on a white shirt…," he mumbled, almost like he was picturing that minute detail.

_Oh my God. Gap teeth? First Beach? Oh holy hell, Esme. _

My palm followed a trajectory to my face and my words were hasty with embarrassment.

"Those were photos my mother would send my aunt and uncle, and, um, I really didn't think anyone would be intimately acquainted with them, so…." I wanted to bolt, remembering the coltish awkwardness of my childhood and teenage years immortalized in Esme's guest room. I might have to take a little trip before next week to dispose of that tragedy.

"No, they were great. I mean, I kind of feel like you kept me company."

_What? Company? _

The mental imagery of Edward sitting on the floor, surrounding himself with frames of my likeness at varying ages refused to wash away.

_Maybe not so far from Buffalo Bill as I thought. Cue the uncomfortable tittering and laughs. _

"I'm really sorry to bring that up. I felt weird not telling you about that, after tonight. It kind of makes me out to be some creepy bedroom loner who violates other people's privacy. I'm not that, of course. Unless, you think I am, which in that case, I apologize. Oh man, can we just forget I ever said anything." The poor guy looked two seconds away from breaking his precious Volvo wheel from the steering column.

_If you're freaked out and you know it, clap your hands. Clap. Clap. _

"Um, right. Well, it's not exactly something you could help. Being in the same room and all."

"Yeah."

Feeling somewhat uneasy that Edward seemed to be fully aware of me before I had even set eyes on him, I resolved to give my thanks and get out. The night had been too bizarre to even consider staying for another minute. I just wanted my damn coffee and my 600 thread count bed. Preferably together.

"Listen, thanks for the ride. Really." I grounded out mechanically and moved to push open the door.

"Bella, wait -." He caught me by the shoulder as I placed one boot clad leg out of the car.

_Oh, he did NOT just grab my shoulder. _

I turned to him with a vicious glare and he automatically removed his hand, probably in fear of his face melting off.

"Sorry, sorry." He held up his hands away from me. "I just wanted to…." He placed his palms over his eyes and scrubbed them down his face, as he exhaled. "The things my father said, the way he went about saying them…I wanted to apologize." He searched my face sincerely and I was taken aback by the apology, though not wholly accepting. "It's been tough for him, since the surgery…he never used to be…but that's really no excuse. The things he said weren't true and were incredibly rude, and I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry. Especially with Carlisle and Esme and all they've done for us…." He stared blankly through the windshield for a moment and then shook his head from his thoughts.

_Well I sure as hell don't need validation or an apology from you._

I fortified the barricades around me once again, blocking any emotion I felt at his sincerity and bit back my exact thoughts.

"Your father _is_ a condescending tool. Luckily, I'm a big girl and he basically gave ground to every stereotype in my book. It feels good to be right."

I waited as Edward's face morphed into surprise. Instead of the anger and shock I was expecting him to display, he let out an amused bark and smiled ruefully.

"You're not exactly one for mincing words, are you?"

"No, I'm really not."

He interlaced his fingers and stretched them experimentally outwards. "I'll have to remember that for next time."

I gave a sardonically dry laugh. What even made him think I would willingly spend time with him after dinner? Did he think I now owed him, that I was somehow intrigued, just because he had a nice face and a clean car? Because he offered to drive me and Ren home? Because he admitted he had some strange mommy and daddy complex with Esme and Carlisle? There was absolutely nothing else we had in common, and I had to make that clear.

My long embittered battle with my defensive nature came to a peak, and I decided to dodge the niceties. I wasn't encouraging this any further than it had to go, and I was sure he would shake me off like a dog with fleas before he lost any sleep over my reluctance to see him again.

"Have a safe trip back." I offered as a final attempt to leave. He made no move to acknowledge me wheedling out of further conversation. "You have to get back, right? I think New York's missing one of their finest bull-shitters." _Aw, hell Bella, he's not supposed to actually be aware of how much you illogically hate him._ "I…uh…mean, there's a lot of bull shitting going down on Wall Street. You, know, bull markets?" _Oh, for the love of Sauron. Just freaking chuck me into Mount Doom. _

My babbling knew no bounds as Edward released an uneasy laugh, attempting and failing to follow the literal bullshit that was spewing from my mouth. And with my awkwardness grew, too, my anger at the situation.

I exhaled heavily." Look, I think we can chalk up the entire night to a lesson in avoiding the orchestrations of our elders. I'm sorry we were both forced into a less than ideal situation." He stared forward, not interrupting or supplying his own confirmation that the jig was up and he too was relieved that we would not be involved in a future of mortifying set-ups.

No Newtonian 'Eureka' moment for him.

His silence swam with tension and it didn't help that I irrationally blamed him for the entirety of the night. "So I'm going to get out and leave, and you should probably go, too." I finished slowly, easing myself away, following the shape of Emmet through the window as he filled a disposable coffee cup with a freshly brewed pot of something strong.

Edward paused briefly before replying, undoubtedly turning over my words in his head.

"I guess I should." He gave an intense sigh, rapping the wheel with his knuckles in a display of what I could only assume was frustration that I hadn't left the confines of the car yet. "I can't think of a reason to stay. It was nice to finally meet you, Isabella." he finished coolly; his warm, syrupy tone of voice solidifying into something hard. My rejection had to have pinpricked his ego, although I was hard pressed to believe I'd made a substantial dent.

Nonetheless, I was surprised that _his_ little jab actually held some weight.

_Ouch. Dismissed. _

I said my goodbye, and what I mean by that is that I actually gave off a sound that was eerily similar to a pneumatic gurgle.

With that passing formality, I swiftly stood and accidentally slammed the door, the intensity of my action reverberating in the night of small town quiet, and I made my way up to Em's. I restrained myself from looking back, horrified that a small part of me broke to the surface and started to consider if my panicked brush-off and heated words had somehow offended him. His dismissal was my own doing and it shouldn't have needled me; I'd said worse things to Mike Newton on a weekly basis during the earlier stages of my life in North Meadow, when he skulked behind me like a rabid rat in the produce aisle. But Edward had been accommodating and polite even if I would bet Rumplestilskin my firstborn that his intentions were not wholly innocent. He was a mover and probably a bit of a shaker who admitted to secretly piecing together my life through a series of photos, and probably knew less about me as a result. _Behold Bella Swan, the convenient distraction. _

But with everything he had offered tonight, he at least deserved a awkwardly masculine punch to the shoulder complemented by a raspy "How bout dem New York Yankees."

Did it truly matter? We'd both made it clear that our interest in one another didn't extend beyond mild curiosity spurred by faceless exultations by Carlisle and Esme. And by a dust coated photograph and tarnished frame; a relic from a time in which I thought family was something tangible that you could rely on.

_Yeah, the good 'ole days. _

He didn't know me. He doesn't know me. He wouldn't know me.

Strangely, I didn't hear the squeal of Edward's car tires leaving until I reached the door of the diner. With that horsepower, Knight Rider would probably pass the town limits in under a minute.

"Bella, you coming in or staying out? I don't have all night."

Emmet and Ren sat expectantly at the diner counter, their forms slightly warped by the frosted glass, but the unmistakable aroma of ambrosial caffeine beckoning me within.

_Familiar. Easy. Coffee. In. Most definitely in. _


	3. Hold On, I'm Comin!

Bar review sucks. But writing this was fun! Standard disclaimer applies and so does the one in my profile. Enjoy and please review if you're still reading :)

* * *

"Nghh." I carefully laid to rest the last vexingly, oversized Guardian self-storage box. I maintained the majority of weight in my upper body, and moved as one with the box, attempting to carefully place it down at a soft angle as opposed to letting the contents carelessly crash to the floor. It joined approximately ten other boxes, jumbled indiscriminately along the cleared floor. Only one had been broken in over the period of FIVE trips, the sturdy low grade, cream porcelain within peeking out from a mess of newspaper.

Manual labor comprising of lifting and relocating heavy objects, or calculatingly vicious torture as it was being perpetrated for the sake of Emmett and Rosalie, was not conducive to my physical well-being. My back cried out with the strain of an inflexible rubber band that had been stretched beyond its capacity and my hands were streaked with red indentations from the sharp edges. Ren followed behind me in suit, letting out a strained cry as she dumped hers in back of me with a little less care. The plates cased in each box clattered angrily on their rims as she did so, and Emmett glanced up sharply in mock disapproval.

"You break any of those, you're handing me a sizable check, courtesy of your sister."

Ren broke out a disparaging laugh as I collapsed to the floor in folded heap, releasing a gasp with the leftover air in my lungs.

"Em , you might as well hire me to pay it off. Bella wouldn't exactly be inclined to do so." In the next moment, she landed right besides me, her upper body overlapping upon mine as we lay together panting in what most probably resembled a hack contemporary sculpture.

_Two Girls: Melded Together at Waist._

"Geroff." I grumpily shouldered her up from her current position on top of me and sat in a less haphazard manner. The full-blown irritation at the extent of Rosalie and Emmett's misleading coaxing shown clearly on my face, and I made it known that I was not one to be taken advantage of.

"Oh Bella!" I mimicked in a gratingly high whine. "Just a few boxes, just your Jeep, you don't have to carry them up. Just drive them from Point A to Point B." I laid out the seemingly short route on the linoleum floor with a rough wave of my hands.

Emmet ignored my invective and continued taking inventory behind the counter, disappearing into the back pantry and kitchen every few minutes to re-tabulate something he had assuredly miscalculated. I'm sure the numbers surrounding the ground beef order or his brand new grill/fryer weren't adding up. The furrows in his face were growing deeper at every inconsistency.

He threw his clipboard (yes, his clipboard with attached pen) and drug store calculator down to the ground in obvious frustration, and they clattered to floor beneath an unmoved Alice perched atop the counter. She dispassionately continued grooming her nails with an emory board and blowing away the powdery residue, uninterrupted by Emmett's outrage.

Assessing the room and his temper, Emmett's expression of seething dissatisfaction melted into fatigue. Aimlessly dislodging the clutter behind the counter, he incoherently muttered a few words about Vlasic pickles and a long due break. Making himself scarce, he stomped through the entrance to the upstairs storage space.

It was a Saturday and the monthly stock and inventory grand event at Em's. And none of us could be sorrier than me for volunteering to deliver and unpack the unholy profusion of new diner plates.

The old ones had grown weary from their many years of use; some of them bearing cracks that spidered out from their centers. So Emmet, ever prepared as he had ordered and stored sturdy new ones at his house at the beginning of his diner gig, had gathered and hoodwinked us all into lending our services. I had used my new Jeep, yes, _new Jeep_ as the red Chevy truck was now rusting away its golden years in a forgotten used car sales lot, to haul the boxes. Apparently it hadn't occurred to any one else that their vehicles might come in handy as well. But with Rosalie at the garage, Emmett needing to keep tabs at the diner and Alice supposedly 'helping', Ren and I were once again left with the heavy lifting.

_Turnabout is fair play and all._

With the number of favors I had racked up on Emmet and Rosalie, I guess it was their turn to cash in a few chips. It was on par with them helping me move in my then new micro-suede couch. But it still sucked like hell.

I petulantly kicked a wad of newspaper that had escaped from the closest box in defiance, and gave Ren an imperious look. She chuckled dryly and with a heavy sigh, brought herself to her knees and began rummaging in the same box, placing the plates in a neat stack out of range of my feet. I rolled my eyes in defeat and joined her, eyeing the clouds looming ominously in the bleak afternoon outside through the large windows behind her. They were coalescing in a swirl of gray and white, paying witness to the deadly calm before the inevitable storm.

"Ren."

"Hmm." She continued stacking robotically; there was no doubt that the menial task was churning her brain into a mush worthy substance.

I stayed her movement of the plates with my hand.

"Why don't you head home? I know that you mentioned a lab work-up you still have type up with Zafrina. Or you could leave that to later; you could just go and do something more age-appropriate," I emphasized my point by mockingly holding up a plate, "at the house. It looks like it's about to storm." I urged, glancing behind her once again.

Zafrina was another young denizen of North Meadow; the fact differentiating her from most other teenagers in this town being that, like Ren, she too attended Platt. They had unwittingly and joyously stumbled upon each other at the North Meadow bus stop, after I had finally conceded to Ren's wish for her to ride the outbound Hartford bus instead of continuing the paranoid ritual of driving her to and from school. Needless to say, they had become inseparable in the two weeks following Ren's instatement in Platt.

Rina, as Ren had enthusiastically come to refer to her as, was a beautiful girl of mixed Afro-Brazilian and Caucasian descent, and apparently a kindred spirit. Their physical uniqueness was evident: Ren, all ivory-skin and bouncing burnt sienna curls and Zafrina, a few inches taller with a coffee complexion and flowing waves of ebony black hair. However, their offbeat temperaments and dry circumstantial humor, as well as convenient proximity to each other, bound them in the face of the intimidating hordes of self-entitled brats. Initially, not knowing much about her other than her and her parents lived in a do –it-yourselfer's renovated Victorian on the other side of town, I asked Ren to invite her for dinner. I was curious as to who had broken through Ren's self-imposed isolation that had seemingly spanned months, beginning when she had relocated to Forks. I was ecstatic to discover that the individual was the bohemian styled, beaded jewelry sporting Zafrina who had likened the taste of my spaghetti Bolognese sauce to 'robust vine ripened tomatoes soaking in the Sicilian sun'.

No one had ever said that about my spaghetti. Not Ren. Definitely not Alice, who commented that it tasted like something that came from a Chef Boyardee can.

Not that her compliments were actually necessary, however. Above anything, I was simply relieved that Ren was spending more face time with actual people than holed up in her room, rereading the dog-eared Cormac McCarthy and David Sedaris works that lay vigilantly on her bedside table. It was a comforting shift from the edginess that had accompanied mine and Ren's relationship in the few weeks before their meeting.

Ren swung her eyes hopefully to the door, but then turned uneasily at the sound of Emmett throwing a bag of something weighty against the upstairs wall.

I eyed the ceiling warily. "Go now, before the entire establishment comes crashing down."

She hopped up at my words. With a barely intelligible "See ya", she flashed out the door, cell phone in hand, and ran down the street to avoid getting caught in the rain.

_Even without the giant red novelty Staples buzzer, that was a little too easy. _

I shook off the discomfort I felt at seeing a streak of lighting flash through the sky and occupied myself with the chore at hand, throwing Alice an occasional, critical glare as she had yet to leave her perch on the counter.

"Don't give me that look." She finally broke, swirling her index finger menacingly at me. "I just spent the last hour and a half taking down lists of canned and jarred goods in the back pantry. I'm mentally tapped out."

_Of course, as if physically placing a plate in the stack would require more than minimal brain function on your part. _

"Well then how 'bout _physically_ pulling your weight over on this end." I smiled cheesily, and waved my hand over the clutter in faux Vanna White cheeriness.

She gestured her hand up and down her body. "You're acting as if I have any weight to pull." She continued looking downwards upon her cuticles.

I simmered in contempt and cursed myself once again for taking on the responsibility of trusted neighbor and friend.

A few minutes later, as I increasingly considered chucking a spare plate in the general vicinity of Alice's head, Rosalie chimed through the door. She shook the beginnings of a downpour from her hair as she glowed in the entrance. Either she had finished the body work on her latest acquisition and closed early, or was looking to take a fun-time break with Emmett in the secret storage space.

"Hi, team." She shook the top half of her coveralls from over a white tank top and allowed them to drape from her waist, narrowly avoiding a spill over the debris on the floor. The overall gray of the room must have caught her attention as she took in our silence.

"So, who died?" Slamming herself onto a stool, she popped her palm against the top of Alice's head. Alice grimaced in response.

"Bella and Emmett's spirits." She replied nonchalantly without looking up.

"Uh huh." Rosalie smirked at the lethargically inclined Alice. "And what exactly are you doing?"

"Providing moral support." Alice supplied in a bored tone.

Rosalie uncharacteristically giggled and the troubled rumblings of Emmett ceased from above. Like a soothing balm to his achingly frustrated heart, her laugh calmed him the hell down. He carefully treaded his way down with heavy, burdened steps and stuck his head hopefully out the door, uncannily similar to a bear sniffing the first signs of spring from a hard winter's hibernation. Emmett wasn't simply wrapped around Rosalie's finger – no, he was twisted into NAVY certified knots in about four distinct places.

"Rose, I need you." The pitifully desperate lilt of his voice moved her face into a look of gentle amusement and she gladly took his hulking form with an 'aw' into her arms as he groaned against her shoulder. The true test of a marriage wasn't the first year, hell it wasn't mortgage payments or raised toilet seats – it was the ability to provide a comforting shoulder under the most distressing of circumstances. In this case, inventory day was the standard to which I gauged their capability to stay married. It was truly hell on earth. And Rose and Emmett withstood it every month with rarely a serious rift. Last month, coffee filters had almost been the ultimate factor in Rose's decision to stay at her mother's for the week, but the squabble had happily subsided. And I had been an unwilling audience to the reconciliation that followed.

Alice, annoyed with the display, tugged the tail of her open chef's jacket from under Emmet's giant fist which had pinned her to the counter, and hopped down to join me.

"I'm going to spread a rumor about Rose being a dude if they keep shoving their obnoxiously happy lives in my face." Alice spat to me with pure venom and I was now fully aware it was one of Alice's 'I deserve better than this shit life' days. They came infrequently and with little fanfare, but exploded with the right provocation. She could have been walking the streets of Paris, London,…Jakarta, or any major urban center in the continental United States with a successful career and a team of well oiled men at her command.

But to make a statement and fulfill a dream, she was here.

With me.

_I know. I should be insulted. But even I feel a little sorry for her. _

And it was now my turn to transform into the honest to God, down home Dr. Phil impersonator that Alice regularly channeled on schedule with my relatively frequent issue spewing.

"Aw Alice," I hawed out with an undeniable pleasure. "That elusive special someone still nowhere to be found? Now tell me honestly, how does that make you feel?"

Alice cracked a glare in my direction and threw her nail file at my forehead. The violence was an unfortunate byproduct of the all encompassing bitchiness she exuded on days like these. However, the damage inflicted was worth it to prove that the eternally optimistic Alice was just as prone to closed off fits of anger as the rest of our dysfunctional group.

Rubbing lightly at the point of contact, I smiled sardonically as my minor revelation from the previous week spun to the forefront of my mind. There was a new trend emerging concerning Alice and it was too evident to ignore any further. Alice was really in for an awakening when she realized the man she loved to hate was in fact a desperately love-struck fool.

_Besotted, thy name is Jasper!_

I had my suspicions for the past few months but it had been too obvious over the last few weeks. As Ren and I settled into a comfortable routine and Rose and Em blissfully carried on with married couple's crap, the Alice and Jasper quotient had morphed from irritatingly endearing to downright volatile: Outright quarrelling in the foyer, death threats delivered with timely accuracy, and a new dent or nick in the cabinets about every week. This was what Alice prepared and bestowed upon Jasper, only caring enough to register his hot-headedness and the lack of professionalism on both their parts. What had flown completely over her head were the little details I had quickly caught onto after particularly biting disagreements: The subdued smiles on his indulgent face, the fleeting glances of unrequited longing, the unwillingness to send her on further tirades but his reluctance to cut short his visits to the Hollow by actually sending in the correct order.

In other words, Jasper had it bad. And the object of his affection was too busy mulling and bemoaning the lack of viable options in town to notice.

This small revelation gleefully left me with the power to manipulate the situation to my liking.

"Alice, you knew the situation coming into it." We did know. We were busy, stubbornly independent, conscientious women. Men were not scrambling hand over foot just to be vented to at the end of a long day, even the available ones of the underachieving, overeating variety. Most of our previous relationships had sprung from various out of town encounters, like people I used to meet in class or customers…err men, she met at various catering ventures. And it's not hard to imagine the fate of those pairings, as we are both currently single.

_But, Jasper. Hmmm_.

She sulked at the floor and I nudged her shoulder, gleefully. "It's been a little quiet on the Y-chromosome front, but there's a lot to be said for the men of this town." I tried convincing her, delighting in her absolute ignorance. "There's Em, who's taken, but I mean c'mon!"

Alice deigned an appreciative glance in his direction as Rosalie nipped his ear, and shrugged in light agreement.

"And, I mean, Newton's as loyal a man as any. In the vein of a creepy, Norman Bates, Labrador puppy ."

With one carefully placed look, Alice etched "Take That Back" with undetectable laser vision into the dome of my skull. Residual puffs of smoke streamed from my ears.

_Oh god, no one deserves Mike 'the Fig" Newton. Not even Alice at her worst. _

I automatically agreed to take that last statement back.

"Well, there are others." _Oh, watch me unfold. _"There's the butcher?" _70 year old, Maurice. God bless him. _"The baker?" _A tattooed spitfire named Flo who is perpetually coated in flour._ "The candlestick maker?" _Eric is a third level Night Elf with mastery in the art of greasy hair._

_Why did I move here again? The IT seems so far away. _

With that nursery rhyme litany, I managed to stun even myself.

Alice seemed to crumple even further.

"Or…." _Wait for it. _"There's always Jasper."

Silence.

Silence.

_T minus 3…2…1. _

"What did you just say?" _Houston, we are a go. _

Alice, in that moment, was a shining rendering of a Picasso cubist painting. You know, eyebrow six inches above her forehead, nostrils flared, mouth a gaping hole of disbelief.

"Jaaasperrrr." I repeated slowly, in the fashion of speaking to a lame dog that wouldn't heel. "He grows organic vegetables? Wears a hipster beanie? And he is, for lack of a better term, the Hottest Farmer Bob I've ever come across."

She stared, still frozen in all her Picasso glory.

"What? He's kind of rangy, but that can easily be construed as rugged. Or battle weary." Her mouth clamped shut into a thin, pressed line. "Intelligent, handsome, and can actually grow you your very own Carmen Miranda cornucopia hat. Substituting the vegetables for fruit, of course."

_She doesn't look very appreciative. _

"Oh, my, God!" _Yeesh, calm down. _"That's…Bella…I don't even…pftt…I mean Jasper…gah…tah…pah…"_Okay, those aren't even words._ "I mean…I can't believe…Jasper, no…just…uhh, no!" She spluttered aimlessly, flicking bits of saliva at the suggestion and waving her arms frantically as if spelling out her opinion of Jasper with interpretive dance.

_Poor Jasper's going to need some major pimpage. _

_Very well, challenge accepted. _

"What? He's a little eccentric, but I wouldn't turn him down."

"He's certifiable!" _Okay, now she's not even trying to keep her voice down_. The most indignant of shrieks sounded from her and Emmett and Rosalie whipped their heads towards our little dramatic performance.

"You're certifiable." I shot back. _Take that. _

"In a…tortured artist…on the brink of genius…way." Her hands were still aflutter and flapping wildly.

"Well, someone thinks highly of themselves."

"Bella! I've sworn to hate him." she shot out, her righteous indignation channeling the desperation of one Elizabeth Bennett.

_That's just ridiculous. _"What are you, a third-grader? Did the popular girls make you take an oath to avoid cooties? You'll just have to un-hate him."

"Whatcha talking about?" Emmett and Rosalie weren't even feigning disinterest anymore, and the name Jasper had come up too many times in the conversation for them to ignore.

Alice swerved, once again her eyes the size of those on a crack addict, as she tried to force out an answer she could come to terms with. In that moment, I decided to take one for Team Asper.

_Ha, Asper._

I didn't want anyone in on the plan, hypothesizing just yet. Alice needed to stew in her juices a little longer for the idea to germinate. And grow. And invade her every waking thought like a spindly, winding jungle vine from Jumanji until it snapped her neck and she suffocated under its truth.

_Oh, I am so good at evil knievel-ing this thing. I need to grow a thick, black mustache and twirl it. _

I waved Emmett and Rose off. "The birds and the bees. That's what we're talking about. Alice's deeply religious upbringing left her with woefully gaping holes in her education." I answered solemnly. Alice's hand came up and slapped my shoulder hard as Rose snickered.

Emmett's despair at his inventory mishap seemed to vanish as he joined in the laughter with fiendish glee.

"Oh, well, I've got my very own twist on that magical tale." Rosalie's palm abruptly blocked the words as they exited his mouth in a garbled flow.

"No. He _really_ doesn't." she supplied for him in a sickeningly sweet tone. She glared, daring Emmett to continue. He immediately ceased and desisted, but turned at the gentle and undeniably familiar flow of laughter that rolled richly from the door, filling all corners of the room.

_!No, imposible!_

In fact, we all shifted to face the source, Alice and I still heaped on the floor, and Rosalie's hand still firmly planted on Emmett's innocently inquisitive stare.

_Oh, no._

I was immediately stricken with the urge to dive behind the counter with a box of plates as ammo. I could spin them like Xena's chakras until one of them eventually hit the mark.

"I was actually kind of eager to hear the rest of that, "the uninvited source offered.

Voice: Gooey

Hair: Messy

Smirk: Smackable. The kind of 'smackable' that you achieve with a heavy smack to the face.

Half his body caving in from the door into the interior of the diner, Edward was stuck in limbo. Either he could stay out in the increasingly torrential rain, or risk intruding upon my little corner of the world and revisiting my strange mix of angry awkwardness. As well as interacting with the people – _my people-_ who were under the notion that nothing of notable exception occurred at dinner with Carlisle and Esme two weeks ago.

_Except something did happen. Edward happened. _

He stepped gingerly inside, the bell's ring a distinct afterthought as he shoved two lingering hands in the deep pockets of his dark brown suede jacket.

"Hi." he greeted with an overtly bright smile.

He entered. Therefore, he obviously had been knocked silly by a band of raging monkeys to erase any remembrances of our last encounter.

We were a bustle of activity then. Rosalie reclaimed her arm and placed it easily around Emmet's waist while Alice stood by way of an ultra-bouncy hand spring. I continued my consideration of his presence from the floor, doing a spot on impression of a floundering guppy on dry land.

But Edward's eyes, roaming the circuit of our faces and the inexplicable mass of newsprint and boxes, did not land on me.

Instead, he and Emmett engaged in a staring contest of epic proportions, each of them willing the other to break.

But not in an unfriendly, alpha-dog face-off.

No, I sensed recognition in each of their expressions. _It's almost like they know…,_

"Masen?"

"Mcarty?"

…_each other. Just great. _

A grinning Emmet broke from Rosalie's grasp and firmly shook Edward's hand, transitioning it into the obligatory, detached, one-armed man hug. Edward spouted out an incredulous laugh, seemingly as shocked as the female populace of the diner as he hugged back, the sound more irritatingly agreeable than I happened to remember. Then again, that Friday had been a surge of adrenaline, vodka, and frayed nerves, a bona fide drag race. Maybe my memory couldn't hold the entirety of the sound.

_Maybe you're way too hung up on his voice._

_Maybe you should shut it. _

_Bite me. _

"Oh man, how are you?" Emmett continued his manly fawning over Edward, as Edward surveyed the room with a newly positive glow emanating from his smile. He must have been viewing it through a new lens now that he was actually aware of the owner.

"Good, good! I had no idea that…Wait." He swung his head towards me, familiarizing himself with me for the first time since he arrived, like I popped up through the floor and unfurled myself from a cluster of lotus petals. _Uh, hi there._ He pulled off a few double takes before setting his trepid stare on Emmett and tilting his head. "Wait, you're _Emmett. _Coffee Emmett. The Coffee Emmett, Isabella pulled me over for a few Fridays ago."

_No, no, no, no, no, no. And don't call me Isabella!_

Four different expressions, in varying degrees of disbelief, trained themselves on me.

_Uh, hi there?_

"Wait, you mean that Friday your truck broke down?" Emmet narrowed his eyes shrewdly.

"That's when your truck broke down? After dinner with your aunt and uncle?" Alice was stirring with barely concealed accusation.

"You told me your uncle dropped you off." Emmett suspiciously mentioned.

"You mean, Carlisle?" Edward ploughed furrows into his forehead at Emmett's statement.

"_Isabella?_" snorted a tickled Rosalie.

"Edward's clearly not your uncle, Bella."

"Bella?

"He drove you home?"

"_Isabella?"_ Rosalie chortled on repeat.

"Who is this guy and why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm Edward."

"Yeah, I get you're Edward. But _who_ are you?"

"I'm…"

"Never mind. Emmett how does Bella know Edward?"

"How the hell do I know?"

"Well, we…,"

"I'm not asking you, I'm asking Emmett."

"Don't ask me. Ask Bella!"

"Bella?"

"Bella?"

"Bella?"

"_Isabella?"_

_Aghh! Make it stop! Make it stop!_

Possessed by the essence of long forgotten sitcom dialogue, they were circling each other's words, growing more confused by the second. Apparently Vanilla Ice's ever applicable advice of "stop, collaborate, and listen" wasn't something they were going to take into consideration.

I folded my limbs, forming myself into a ball of silence, as they all bore down on me with their curiosity and mind scrambling questions.

My lies of omission had come back to haunt me and make my life that much more awkward.

"I…okay, just one question at a time please." I responded weakly, fumbling for any answer in reach. I managed to stand, kicking a disgruntled collapsed box to the side and swinging slightly from my daze.

Their eyes dug trenches into my face and the scrutiny was making it easy to contemplate a quick break away into the now torrential rain.

If only it would prove to be that easy. Alice, noting the fleeting panic etched onto my face, stood in a ready stance, undoubtedly to tackle at my charge.

"I…," My head ducked down in hopes of when I lifted it one again, the entire room would ripple hazily and all together disappear.

_No such luck, genius. This isn't Narnia. What's the plan now?_

The mix of anxiety and defensiveness churning in my gut eventually overturned any humility. The glow of anger radiated into my face, and I felt my cheeks burning with something I could define as nothing else but scorn.

_Oh Edward Masen, there will be hell to pay. _

"Everyone, give me a few minutes with our new friend here." I waved blandly in the direction of the door and was met with a bigger resistance than I anticipated.

"No way…,"

"This is my diner, go and hash it out in the rain…,"

"I want front row seats to this smack down…,"

"Oh my God, just do it before I pull out over ten years of combined dirt on all of you. Now!" I raised my voice a slight notch above what was normal and an odd hush sounded over the room; nothing to hear but raindrop splatters and the uncomfortable throat clearing that accompanies open blackmail.

But no one moved.

"Actually," There was a discordant scuffle of expensive boots on linoleum and Edward finally made the uneasy request to bolster my own. "I wouldn't mind explaining myself to everyone in a few minutes, but maybe Isabella and I could just take a couple of moments to clear some things." He glanced shyly, hopefully around the room but there was a certain confidence in his words that were lacking from my own.

_Ugh, just keep tacking on reasons for me to hate you, Masen. _

One by one they dispersed hesitantly to the foot of the stairs, imparting me silent messages with their demanding eyes. The door closed but not before Alice communicated either "You're soo not off the hook" or "You want to get some frozen yogurt later?" It was really very impossible to distinguish between her looks anymore; she was very passionate about dairy.

Light footfalls finally reached the floor above and I expelled about ten minutes of pent up breaths. I'm sure my eyes had bulging with the effort and I trained my gaze on the seemingly unflappable Edward .

"What the hell?"

Unfortunately enough, he seemed to overlook my rage. "Hi. You look nice."

The words escaped him in one fell breath and I couldn't quite fathom why he was commenting on my outfit of jeans and Police Synchronicity t-shirt, all shrouded underneath a faded red hoodie. In all honesty, I looked like a knock off from My-So-Called-Life, except closer to thirty, sans a Jared Leto, and maybe a little more on the pathetic side. But only a little.

I explored him once again with my now not so stoic gaze, as I was seething in a mixture of confused, envious rage. He is apparently the calm to my storm, the Obi-wan to my brash Anakin, and … I found him all the more attractive for it.

But I was still mad.

There were a few more minutes of loaded silence before he demonstrated toward the stools.

"How about we take a seat?"

"No." I felt a swell of pride in my chest at my firm refusal, so much more sure of myself now that our audience had left the room.

"No?"

"No, you sit. And you listen." Well, he certainly didn't mind taking orders from my side, because my directive sent him to the nearest available chair. He swung it in a blur of red plastic and metal, straddling the back of the seat and surprising me with his casual ease.

He waited for my words, politely alert, his fingers flexing minutely against the cuff of his jacket the only sign of his restlessness.

"I really need to get one thing straight before I can even think of what I want to say next." I gritted out, straight to the point.

He nodded, his face wonderfully saturated in rust stubble and eyes fluidly dark. He was not just a little alluring.

But I shrugged it off.

"I need to know…if Esme sent you." My sentence ended more unsure of itself than when it started and I couldn't help but implore with a smidge of vulnerability for him to tell me that wasn't the case. Because I certainly knew that it more than probably was.

He gave me an intriguing smile, the likes of which were a quick upwards rise of his lips softened by an ironic mix of curiosity and knowing. I had surprised him, but not enough for him to have been unable to comprehend and consider my words.

"She didn't. I'm here of my own free will." He laughed lightly at his statement and the room seemed to brighten by a marginal amount.

I convinced myself that it was merely the clouds finally letting up.

While he had defused my anger quite skillfully in the beginning of our conversation, I felt the gathering of my frustration once again.

"If that's the truth, then I'm not sure what makes you think you can stroll into _my_ town without even the courtesy of letting me know. I live _here_. I work _here_. I am trying to assimilate a most beloved sister, _here_. This place is small enough for people to talk, for my friends to raise questions, and for _everyone _to get the wrong assumption. I'm not sure what you're attempting to accomplish but this is really, truly beyond the boundaries of what I'm comfortable with."

His once modestly at ease features, lifted in shock and I'm sure he was mentally calculating how long he had actually known me, and how that would translate to rumors.

"I…Geez, Isabella. The wrong assumption? I've known you for all of five minutes. No one's going to think…," he spluttered, finally breaking from his calm facade.

"Yes, they will think whatever pleases them, partially due to my failed relationships and the fact that I've hidden you and Esme's painfully obvious set-up machinations, from my friends." That was as direct as I could get.

"My parents were in on it too." he quietly supplied and I huffed. He looked equally amused and distressed at my own distress…and maybe even a little accepting.

"So you acknowledge it?"

"Acknowledge that it might've been a carefully coordinated meeting to size up our compatibility? And it might've been a little easier had we known what we were walking into? Yeah, I can acknowledge that."

I was glad he didn't deny anything. What was still confusing was that he seemed no closer to leaving then when I explained why he couldn't be here.

"So, we're good?"

"We're good."

"We're clear?"

"Crystal." Silence dawdled and I was at a loss of why he and the chair were still intact.

I swooped my arms towards the exit. I could've been doing the electric slide for all he reacted. He was still amused but deliberately overlooking my unsaid request.

"The door's thataway, trust fund. I thought we came to an understanding." I didn't need to know why he initially made the stop over into my life, only that he would be departing before I really needed to start taking his presence into account.

"Is this your way of kicking me out?"

"Yes, please leave. Listen, I very much appreciate what you did for me and Ren, but this whole farce was supposed to end there. I don't need any answers; just need you gone before the peanut gallery decides I've been left on my own for far too long."

"I need directions." Edward swung his legs, almost playfully juvenile in his actions and I could barely sense a tucked away child beneath the veneer of daddy's little CEO.

I visibly deflated from the request. North Meadow was one block of North, South, East, and West. Directions were on the side of unnecessary when it came to this town.

"To where? Look, if you're looking to make a pit stop on your way to Hartford, or New York, or wherever you're planning your next hostile takeover, there's Newton's grocery just a few blocks south. Other than that…." My hands fell helplessly to my sides as I willed his next words to be something along the lines of 'of course, I'm only here for a quick-stop. There's nothing I could possibly be searching for in this town except a travel size bag of Combos.'

I got the immediate feeling that my assumption was dead wrong.

If smugness was a person, it would be dancing circles around me, blowing raspberries with his tongue and taunting me like a demented satyr. Yes, satyr, as in little goat man-god.

Only smugness didn't do anything of the sort, it just sat stupidly on Edward's face.

"A pit stop is unnecessary for where I'm headed."

_No. _

His knuckles rubbed assuredly on the collar of his white shirt, sticking rigidly above the neck of his coat. "Hotels can be so clinical, impersonal. All the fluorescent lighting, and generic beige, and let's not forget the perfect view of cars whizzing by on the highway."

_No, he's kidding right. Right?_

"I'm looking for something a little closer to home."

"You live in Manhattan. How about you consider the real thing?" I couldn't stop myself from deadpanning the statement.

He chuckled. _Ugh, that stupid, heart seizing sound._ "I still have another couple months of work before the branch is stable enough to conduct business on its own. And you know that's not what I meant."

"Months," I repeated, my eyes glassy.

"Months." he confirmed. "What I meant was I was hoping for something a little more inviting, warm, …intimate."

The word _intimate_ sprung to life and began to gyrate its hips to a deep bass line, thrusting between every "Bowchikawowow."

Edward's one eyebrow lifted above the other, encouraging any reaction I had.

_Oh, is that me sweating? I barely noticed the perspiration dripping off my nose and pooling at my feet like a moat. _

"Edward, I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean but I can tell you for sure, nothing of that sort-exists in this town. We're a wholesome community." _Yeah right. _"We don't abide the vices of strangers." _Why are you talking like a Quaker?_

I could note that Edward was a patient man as he barely flinched at my semi-humorous attempt to deflect his explanation. _Because if he's heading where I think he is…,_

"I would like to check in to The Hollow." he firmly stated, resolving any misunderstanding which might've been left to wiggle about in ignorant bliss.

…_then it's the absolute worst case scenario._

_Thump_

_Thump_

_Thump_

Three knocks sounded from the floor above, a rudimentary signal conveying that both patience and time were short before the group upstairs would convene court and sentence me to an hour of painful interrogation. And Alice would most assuredly be the 'bad cop'.

"Who put you up to this?" It was time to stop beating around the metaphorical bush, slash off its leafy limbs, and raze it to ash with a torch.

Edward shrugged. "No one."

"No one put you up to this?"

He nodded.

"No one?"

He nodded.

"Then why do I smell something foul?"

Edward's eyes roved over the expanse of the room, taking in the mess.

"Rotting newspaper?" he supplied.

"Oh, great," I barked incredulously, my short fuse crackling that he would choose to joke right now. He seemed so guileless, his expression so innocent. He really had no shame in overturning the lives of people he barely knew.

_Why does it matter so much what he does?_

_It does. _

_Why?_

_He's doing it to toy with me._

_Why would he do that?_

_I don't know! Ask the sociopath!_

I strode to him, pausing right before the chair back and placed my hands firmly on the plastic before leaning forward and gluing on my no-nonsense glare. Instead of shrinking away from my hands, he met me head on, tilting back his neck and lifting his body impossibly closer to mine.

I gave the chair one decisive, warning rattle. He was unfazed by my hostile show of adrenaline.

"You're _not_ staying at the Hollow. I don't know what you're up to but I'm not humoring it."

"Why are you so angry? I'm just a customer looking for a place to stay and rest my head. You happen to be the innkeeper. It's a no strings attached situation."

I rolled my eyes at his use of the term innkeeper. This wasn't an installment of Grimm's Fairytales.

"Seriously, why are you here? I was deliberately rude to you the other night. You left all abrupt and cold and pissy." _And interestingly enough, I couldn't take my eyes off of you. Even during your creeptacular admission about the portraits in the guest room. _

"Let the past stay in the past, bygones are bygones, and all that. I forgive you." he sincerely assured me. _ Oh, well, I'm honored. Really. _"Do you forgive me?" he asked, glancing up through his unusually lengthy eyelashes.

"You might think you're cute, but you're just managing to get on my nerves."

"So no forgiveness?"

"No."

Edward shrugged. "Well then, there's not much I can do to convince you otherwise."

"There are dozens of hotels, motels, and park benches in the tri-County area."

"I read online at that The Hollow 'boasts of a small town richness and hospitality that is virtually unmatched in the state of Connecticut'. " My face flushed slightly at his recitation of a recent favorable description we had garnered from the _Connecticut Hospitality Review_. I couldn't believe he had it memorized. "And judging from that, I'm willing to bet you're at least a couple of steps up from a park bench." He winked immediately, the action blatantly flirtatious.

My mouth dropped open but it only served to amplify my intake of the glorious scent coming from his hair. We were much too close if the cyclone atop his head was tempting me.

_Must use conditioner. Is that coconut?_

Shaking my head from that errant thought, I fought back with a tired retort. "Please tell me you did not just use cheesy innuendo on me."

Finally a guilty smirk had the decency to tug on his lower lip. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He was infuriating.

I decided to try an alternate route in an attempt to dissuade him.

"I don't like you." I bit out.

_So much for subtlety, Swan. When in doubt, insult him like you're still in kindergarten. _

He feigned hurt but his smile was full-fledged.

"You don't even know me!"

"I don't want-."

"Okay, Isabella." He tipped his head backwards, his chin almost connecting with mine as he inhaled deeply, no doubt taking a breather from our weird, sexually charged battle.

That's right. I wasn't so dense that I couldn't discern the attraction coming from my end.

"I really don't see what the big deal is. This has nothing to do with you. I work long hours, walking a tightrope for this incredibly shaky business venture, which my dad has the upmost faith I can handle without sinking his life's work. I get pressured, pushed around, and there's really no telling if it's all worth it in the end. It's a tiring and lonely existence and I like seeing a familiar face every once in a while, that's all." he added matter-of-factly.

I almost balked at his emotionless honesty, but acknowledging that he was simply using it to throw me off his trail, I kept steady eye-contact.

"Those aren't my problems." My voice strained with the effort of shading itself neutral.

"No, but they're mine. And sometimes, at the end of an endless day, you just 'wanna go where everybody knows your name."

My eye balls must have been in constant rotation from the amount I was rolling them.

_There's nothing that says corny like the theme song from _"Cheers".

"Nobody here knows your name." I pointed out .

"You do. And I'm a pretty easygoing guy. I don't think anyone will mind." His smile softened and dropped, the humor suddenly absent from his words. "I know I don't have to tell you that you can't refuse my service without being ethically compromised as a business owner."

_Oh-ho, and the douchebaggery comes to light. _

He had just succeeded in perpetrating the one thing that would cement his position on my 'bad side'. As it was, my 'good' side wasn't all that pleasant.

I gritted my teeth. "I don't know who you think you are, coming into _this_ town, _this_ diner, and preaching to me like the fucking bearer of business code. I'm well aware that I can't refuse you. But I'm hoping that you'll transform into a decent human being in the next five minutes and walk away, so I won't have to be _ethically compromised_."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "For the last time, I don't have an agenda. I swear I'm not as big of an asshole as you're making me out to be."

"I never said…that you were an asshole." My voice grew progressively fainter as my gaze fell and my fingers struggled to pick at imaginary lint on my sleeve.

"No, I'm only an indecent human being."

His knuckles rubbed with mine and I moodily drew my hand back.

_Please. That turned you on a little._

"You didn't have to say anything. I know how you feel about me. I'm not sure what the grudge-match is all about," _Ugh, I'm way too transparent. "_but maybe I can work to change your mind. About me" Edward answered softly, his voice indulgent but resolute. It looked like North Meadow was gaining a new resident.

_Well then. I feel like the biggest bitch who ever refused a gorgeous man shelter. _

_I still don't trust him. He's sneaky. And up to no good. You turn your back and he'll go all Lando Calrissian on you and your friends! _

I straightened up with a resigned sigh. "I'm not under the impression my mind needs any changing." He gave me a rueful half smile. "But I can't stop you from coming here and intruding on my life." He bit his amused lips, shaking his head in disagreement. I sucked in my cheeks and clenched my eyes shut, knowing that my acceptance of the situation would lead to all sorts of trouble for the upcoming weeks. He continued staring in polite interest, awaiting my verdict, ever the obedient one.

"Our inn policy is that you make a reservation at least a week in advance. You'll have to wait back in Hartford a few days." _And maybe you'll come to your senses and realize that torturing me in front of a town of my peers is really not in your best interests. _

"What's the date?" he replied automatically, dropping his gaze and fumbling through his pockets for his cell.

"Uh, the 20th. Why?"

"Perfect," he cheerily shot back. "By my estimation, that means I called the inn approximately a week… and a half ago." He rose off the chair, reminding me of his incredibly generous genetic inheritance. He towered over me as I stood stock still, staring into the cotton spanning his chest.

"What? Who did you speak with?" My eyebrows strung together at his utter lack of explanation and I mentally flew through the guest information logged into the inn records. _Adirondack Hiking Society –Tuesday, Miller + Guest – Wednesday, Nair Family – Friday, weekend is free... except for a strange block of time marked without a name for 4PM. _Was that him? Oh my God, I figured that was just put aside for general room prep. How did his calling in happen without my knowing?

He raised his hands in a gesture of apology, shielding himself from my inquiry.

"Sorry, all my bags are in the car and I really need to get a head start on unpacking. Busy week up ahead."

_Unbelievable. _

"I thought you needed directions," I called flatly after him.

He had the audacity to feign vague recollection. "It all seems to be coming back to me."

"Wonderful. If you get lost, don't bother calling."

He backed towards the door in measured slowness, taking time to linger by the entrance.

There was another flash of his obnoxiously knowing grin.

"You know, Isabella, you should plan on being a little nicer to me. I'm a paying customer."

"I can be whatever the hell I want. You're entering onto my territory." He lifted his shoulders as if to respond that my rationale was arguable. "And it's Bella, trust fund. Just Bella."

"Yeah I caught that earlier." He paused. "I'm a little more partial to Isabella."

Then he was through the door, dodging the erratic rain the best he could as I followed him through the plated side windows. The silver Volvo had been parked out my eye line when I had been slouched on the floor, and I didn't feel so bad over the fact that I didn't take it as a giant clue as to whom the driver was.

Before I could blink, his car made a quick three point turn and I noted with dread that Edward directed it in the general route towards The Hollow.

The entire exchange had seemed as one oddly misplaced nightmare, from my slumber into my waking state. And because it was _my_ nightmare, it had been fraught with sexual tension masquerading as sarcasm in front of a man, as Alice had so eloquently stated before, I had "sworn to hate".

_I really hope he didn't catch onto that. Otherwise, the next month will have a healthy dose of awkwardness to top off his insufferable ass. _

The creaking of the door to the right alerted me to the presence of others, eavesdropping on my not-so clandestine rendezvous with the handsome stranger who I had ostensibly engaged in angry foreplay banter.

Their heads appeared in a totem fashion at the edge of the door, Alice holding steady as the bottom.

She didn't even wait for a prompt.

"Is he gone?"

"How much did you hear?"

"Whew…enough!" Rosalie swiped a hand across her forehead. "We thought we'd be trapped up here with no ventilation while you guys finally ripped each other's clothes off and proceeded to christen the new plates with wild animal sex. I put down a twenty that you'd be the first to break down and ask him to unzip your jeans with his teeth."

_See. This is what I'm afraid of dealing with. _

"Please don't be gross. It's not even close to being like that." _Keep telling yourself what you want to believe_. "When have I ever given the impression that I'm someone who deviates to animal sex? Or teeth zipper disrobing? In the middle of a diner? "

"Bella, for someone like him, animal sex is almost a requisite thing. He is a bull horned stud. Who the hell is he?"

Emmet brushed the top of his wife's head with an affectionate palm, discounting her attraction. "He's Edward." He simply responded.

Alice rolled her eyes before sheepishly eyeing my deepening frown at the crass insinuations. "So, at least, that was kind of nice of him. Not bursting in unannounced. Giving you a heads up that he was staying in town."

"Ha, if you call that a heads up!" Alice nodded robotically at my words, uncomfortably skimming over them while trying to keep her face blank.

There was no room for doubt. I immediately knew what she had done.

_Et tu Brandon!_

"It was you, wasn't it?"

She shifted, her reaction displayed too rapidly to be innocent. "What, what are you talking –."

"You made the reservation!"

Her mouth framed silent words before finally chewing out a careful admission. "Well okay yeah, fine, yeah, it was me!" Alice defensively put up her palms and raised her voice as I opened my mouth. "We need the business and I'm not going to turn away a customer. An eager customer. And he was _eager,_ Bella. Like asked to speak to you almost three times before finally accepting you were out."

I rolled my eyes. "And that didn't give you any kind of concern over who this person was? Like maybe someone I would most likely try and avoid? "

"Maybe I would have been concerned if I actually knew who the hell he was!" she bit out, eyes blazing. Now it was my turn to feel sheepish and a little shady. "You've got a strange, weirdly hot guy calling you and following you around Hartford and you don't tell anyone?! Emmet somehow knows him." Alice pointed at Emmet and he averted his eyes, plainly looking as if he wanted to be left out of the whole thing. "Why are you acting so secretive, it can't be that big of a deal."

Rosalie and Emmet nodded in agreement from the side, obviously choosing to bolster Alice and leaving me to finally divulge the full extent of my impossibly awkward and confusing encounter with Edward two weeks before.

I scuffed the toe of my sneaker against the floor, a bad habit I had when confronted with uncomfortable situations. And this current one topped the charts.

A circle of hot embarrassment and anxiety ringed my neck and I huffily unzipped my hoodie, letting it fall to the floor before finally sitting down in the chair Edward had pulled out before.

"Look," I said, staring at my hands. "It isn't a big deal."

Rosalie and Alice simultaneously snorted.

"Well you've made it seem like I need to start vetting phone calls for stalkers. Fess up, Swan." Alice crossed her arms.

_I don't want to tell you because you'll push me into it and I really, really don't want to go there. _

One last deep breath whooshed out as I began.

"Carlisle and Esme had this oh so fabulous idea…,"

"_You know I'm such a fool for you."_

The dulcet tones of the Cranberries cut into my confession and I swept my ringing phone to my ear, eyeing the interrogation team somewhat warily.

"This is Bella Swan."

"I know who you are, you odd leetle person. I called ju!" Laurent's sneer had never been so welcome.

"Laurent, I'm so happy to hear your voice!" I crooned in joy, my expression triumphant as the gang turned away and mumbled in exasperation.

"Ju are?"

"Yeah…sure."

Somewhat confused and a little placated, Laurent huffed expectantly.

"Well, okay." Then as if remembering why he called in the first place, his tone shifted and blistered in barely contained rage. "There iz some idiot who has blocked me in the driveway with 'is stupid car and now I can't go home! Bella, I am teaching Zumba in an hour and zis is unacceptable, you and the leetle chef need to get back now."

My stomach sank.

"Has the guest checked in yet?"

"No, he iz refusing to move until ju get here, and I'm refusing to let him inside. He looks like a drowned rat. A tall drowned rat." Laurent added in slight disgust, refusing to accept the possibility that he could make it all better just by being a little more polite to the guest.

Knowing it was Edward, I couldn't exactly blame him.

_And here I was hoping Edward wasn't joking about getting lost. _

Laurent's voice faded out as he addressed the object of his fury in the background, angrily threatening him with a call to the police and the cricket bat he kept in the hollow compartment behind the front desk.

_Ugh. _"Just hold on. I'm coming." I wearily replied, and hung up.

_Let the games begin._

* * *

Not cool, brah. So not cool! Please review!


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